A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

The detailed concrit I've been getting is awesome, incidentially :)

"The husband must know when to rule and when to use gentleness, just as the wife must know when to scold an elf and when to gently wheedle."

Fimbrius Malfoy, letter to his brother Hyperion, 1779

Lucius Malfoy considered himself a lucky man, after a fashion. For all the misfortunes he'd experienced in the past two years, everything had worked out nicely, in it's own way. But he wasn't sure the same could be said for the healer, who was looking down the end of Draco's wand.

"You. Said. It. Would. Help. Her."

"Yes, yes, but as I've explained-"

"You fix this. Right. Now." Draco's hands were shaking. His face was deadly white, accept for two lividly red patches on his cheeks. The healer straightened and shook out his robes.

"Your wife needs rest and calm. Perhaps a sanatorium in-"

"No."

"Mr. Malfoy-"

"No." Lucius reached out and gently touched his son's arm. "Healer, perhaps you do not understand. My son and daughter in law cannot be separated. You'll need to come up with a solution that doesn't involve them being apart."

"There's no reason we couldn't continue with the potion.""Aside from the fact she's not sleeping?"

The healer sniffed, annoyed. "Mr. Malfoy, your wife is simply attempting to manipulate you. And your fussing about is playing into it. As I've said, there's a lovely sanatorium in-"

Draco's wand was raised again. He looked very calm. "Shut up. And fix. My wife."

"Really, Mr. Malfoy, this isn't helping anything."

Draco moved closer, and Lucius shot him a Look, the sort he'd spent the previous twenty years perfecting. Draco didn't seem to notice; was this healer a fool? He was profoundly lucky not to have been mauled to rags by an enraged veela.

The healer huffed and sent his elf for various potions and philtres. "I must strongly register my protests to all this. I've seen this before, and it was simply wilful women attempting to force their way."

Draco lunged. Lucius caught him just in time and gave him a single hard shake and a hissed "Draco Lucius."

Draco calmed as they went into the room where Narcissa was talking softly to the silent, white faced Hermione. Her eyes were ringed with shadow and her hands were folded as though she couldn't think of what else to do with them.

"How does Madam feel?" For the first time, the healer directed a question to Hermione. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, feeling hot loathing under her drugged docility.

"Calm."

"Yes, yes, I mean physically. Nauseous? Dizzy?"

"No."

He turned back to Draco. "And Madam's mood?"

"Uncommunicative and withdrawn."

The healer began to palpate Hermione's glands. "I see."

"What the hell does that mean?"

The healer looked levelly at Draco. "Medicine is an art. Perhaps if we adjust the dosage?"

Draco shook his head. " No. Undo whatever you did."

"One can't expect results overnight, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked at Hermione, who was shivering slightly. 'Leesy, get Madam's bed jacket and lap robe, what's the matter with you?"

"I really must insist you consider the sani-"

This time Lucius wasn't quite fast enough. Draco was on the man in a flash. "If you don't cure whatever it was you've done, I'll rip out your throat with my bare hands. Do it now."

The elf produced a phial of something thickly, vitally red, like blood, and handed it to the healer. Hands trembling, he handed it over. Hermione took the potion without a word. She closed her eyes for a moment, and gasped as her whole body tingled all over, as though every inch of her had fallen asleep and was coming awake at once.

Draco went to her. Sitting down, he put both arms round her and held her tightly. "Better, precious?"

Hermione blinked, eyes clear for the first time in days. "Yes. Yes, thank you."

Draco turned to the healer. "If she hadn't been..." The look on his face promised brutality.

The healer took a step back and ran smack into Lucius Malfoy, a head taller than he, and smirking down at him. "Your services are no longer needed." His face had all the cool disdain of his class.

The healer saw himself off, deciding he was well rid of them all.

Narcissa gently touched her son's arm. "Darling, Father and I will stay for the day, hmm?"

Draco nodded absently, completely focused on Hermione. They crept into the next room as softly as they could, and relaxed, knowing the current crisis had cooled every so slightly.

Draco had thought nothing could be worse than the time he'd spent in waiting to get his Hermione back. The long, long days, pacing and checking the wards and trying to restrain his new, violent impulses, the awful nights where every sound roused him.

This was worse. Looking at her dark ringed eyes, set in a marble coloured face, Draco felt a sharp, angry sense of...something. It wasn't guilt, definitely. Not that. Anger, of course. But not guilt.

Hermione felt as though she'd been splashed by hot water after being submerged in cold jelly. "What time is it?"

"Eight thirty AM."

"Oh. Has everyone eaten?"

Draco laughed. Sweet Hermione, always worrying about others. He nuzzled her neck, cooing softly, filled with relief and a light he hadn't felt in what seemed forever. "Darling, the elves will see to it. How are you?"

"I've a headache."

He nodded and helped her to her feet. "Let's get you put to bed and Leesy'll bring you something for it."

After he'd settled her under their robes, they studied one another. "Can we talk about your feelings, love?"

"Would later be all right?" She seemed shockingly calm, given what had happened lately. Draco cupped her cheek. "I was so afraid I'd lose you, love."

"Why don't you go and see your parents, Draco? I'd like some privacy."

He wanted more than anything to refuse. He needed to stay with her, keep her safe, make sure she slept. But that feeling was still there, and perhaps Mother and Father would have some perspective.

"I'd like to stay until you're asleep. Would you mind?"

Hermione shook her head. The headache potion ended the dull pounding, and exhausted from lack of sleep, she was out in seconds. Draco threatened Leesy with clothes should she leave Hermione even a second, except for life and death emergencies. Leesy sobbed to reassure him she never would, and settled beside Hermione's head, making the soft shirring noise that house elves use to soothe the children they care for. Draco calmed a little, hearing it; Hermione was in good hands.

Draco called for cider for all three of them and knocked up his parents' door. They bid him enter at once. "Is she well?"

"I don't know." Draco sat next to his father and sipped pensively at his cider.

"You did the best you could, Draco."

"I know. But it wasn't enough." He drank a little more. 'I failed her."

"Didn't. You're both very young, love."

"Did. This never happened with Mother."

"No' said Lucius' it didn't. But you never meant her to come to harm. And don't contradict your elders, Draco."

"No, Father. How do I make this up to her?"

"Women like jewellery." Narcissa snorted and set her tankard down. 'Lucius, really."

"They do."

"Yes, but this is not a matter for jewellery. This is more serious. Why not send for her cat, Draco?"

"I'm scared I'll hurt it."

"You've not hurt Phoebe."

"Phoebe isn't competing with me for Hermione's attention."

"True. You restrained yourself beautifully with that medi-wizard."

"Thank you, Mother. I suppose we can try." He sent Rinky to Darlington, and in ten minutes had been handed a fat orange pudding, with two currant eyes, along with a note from Hermione's mother, asking after them.

He held the pudding cat at arm's length. "Listen, you: don't wee on my shoes, or try to take my pillow, and we'll be best mates, understand?" The cat miaowed haughtily, demanding to know where his Girl was. Draco carried him to her, and watched as the cat arranged himself right against her side, purring and kneading contently.

Hermione woke to a warm weight on her side. She rolled, half asleep, and felt soft, moving fur. "Crooks? Crookshanks?" He miaowed, asking her why she'd taken so long in getting him, and butted his head against her cheek, purring.

From the chair by the fire came her husband's voice. "So it is a cat. I fancied it some sort of pillow."

Hermione sat. "Draco? Did you do this?"

"Thought he'd help you feel better."

Hermione nodded. "Did I sleep long?"

"It's almost midnight."

She gasped. "Truly?"

"Quite. We need to discuss this."

"I know." She stroked Crookshank's smooth fur. He purred and rolled on his back for a belly rub, flailing his drumstick like legs to get her attention. Hermione giggled. Once, very softly, but it filled Draco with delight. He smiled broadly and came to sit next to her on the bed. The cat sniffed at him disdainfully and then ignored him, which suited Draco fine.

"What happened?"

He shuddered. "You've been very restless in your sleep, darling. Having you drink the tea was a bad idea, on top of the potion. You woke me thrashing and I couldn't rouse you." He'd woken, just after one AM and it had taken until after seven for the tisane to finally, finally wear off.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't be! I can't stand that you were having nightmares like it was. And you needn't be so formal, love. I'm your husband, it's my job to respond to your emergencies."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Draco...it's better I be formal. I'm feeling rather upset over this right now, and I'd rather be excessively formal than say something...imprudent."

Draco nodded. "I appreciate that, love, I do. But I'd rather hear it than have it fester inside you."

"I swore a vow. And I hardly think using coarse language and slapping you is perfect Pureblood wife behaviour, do you?"

He snorted despite himself. "Mrs. Leek wouldn't say so." Mrs. Leek literally wrote the book on proper Pureblood wifely conduct. 'And you didn't slap me, you punched me."

"It was a slap."

"Yes, and Goyle is the smartest bloke in Britain. Moving on, I regret not having listened to you."

She understood it for what it was, an apology, and nodded. If Ron had ever tried that sort of shite on her, she'd have hexed him into next Tuesday, but this was Malfoy. Perhaps he'd never given an actual apology ever.

"Thank you, Draco."

"Welcome. What else can I do to make it up to you?"

"Could my parents come again?" Draco took her hand and played with her fingers, very gently, just wanting to feel her and let her know he was there. She let him. Would he let them come?

"Since my parents will be here so much, let's set up a schedule. Just so no awkward moments get interrupted, hmm?"

"Schedule?"

"Yes. Let's say we have them over every, oh, Thursday ? Does that sound right?"

Hermione went still. "Do you mean it?"

"Assuming your health is up to it, yes. You seemed to feel better after they come, and it's only fair, since Mother and Father will come over, too."

He was absolutely startled when she put her arms about his neck. He could feel something warm and wet on his skin. "Love?"

Hermione pulled back, crying a little. "I just miss them so much."

"I know. Shhh, there there, they'll come very soon." He had to hold her. She didn't seem to mind as much this time.

Hermione was so grateful to be free of the potion, and to have the chance to see her parents again, that she almost didn't mind his touch like she had. Almost. She felt a terrible anger about what had been done to her, and a resolve that it should never happen to anyone else.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

Hermione steeled herself. "Why, Draco? I've been as good as my word."

"Yes, you have. And we just...I want you to be happy, truly. And it seemed like nothing else seemed to work."

"What was it?"

"Nonadverso. I...he told me you'd only need it a little while, and we'd bond, and then when you were off it, you'd be able to deal with how you felt safely."

"You talk about safety a good deal."

"Can't help it. It's the veela thing."

"Oh. Deal with what, precisely?"

"I know you aren't happy about this. Our marriage, and moving away from home."

"Yes. We talked about it, remember?"

"Of course. But I know you haven't been telling me how you really feel."

Hermione shut her eyes a second. "Put yourself in my shoes, Draco."

"What would that fix?" There are lines and there are lines. He wondered if this was a side effect of the potion.

"I mean, pretend you're me. Would you want to open up in these circumstances?"

"If I knew the person cared about me, and wouldn't hurt me, and could take care of me better if I talked about my feelings, I would."

Crookshanks stood and stretched, daintily giving Draco a damned good poke with his paw. Draco frowned. "Remember our agreement, cat."

"Agreement?"

"That's right. He's promised not to wee on my shoes, or take my pillow."

"Oh." Hermione didn't quite know what to say to that. Crookshanks got closer, smelling this new Person all over, especially about the neck and hands, where scent congregates. Then, to prove his disinterest, he put his leg over his head and started to wash his bits.

"Crookshanks, really!" Hermione smiled slightly at her cat. "He's awfully stubborn about new people."

"Hadn't noticed."

They sat in awkward silence for a long while. "What would you like to eat, Hermione?"

Hermione pondered. "Is there any of that quail from yesterday?"

"Ought to be. And we'll have something sent up for the cat, too." The cat lifted his head from his thighs long enough to give Draco a look of derision. He actually rather liked his Girl's Mate, but it wouldn't do to spoil him too early in the training process.

"Keep it up and it'll be a lump of poison, you wretched beast."

"Draco!"

"He glared at me."

"That's just how his face looks!"

"Hmmph. Cold poison, at that." Crookshanks snorted and kept bathing. Draco found himself like the mangy animal. A bit.

The elves, sobbing with relief in the kitchen, made a tray of cold quail and spiced apples, with gooseberry tarts for lasts. Hermione and Draco both ate, feeling the silence keenly, but grateful for it. Wounds were too raw at the moment to contemplate serious discussion.

A few moments later, Narcissa knocked on the door and poked her head in. Both children were dozing, the tray sitting on the floor and the huge part kneazle gnawing a bone with enthusiasm.

"Aren't you handsome?"

Crookshanks flicked his tail to show it to advantage and lifted his head, great tufty ears swivelling to hear what this clever Woman had to say.

"You'll watch them, won't you?"

He grumbled. What a foolish question. Of course he would. What would the humans do without him?