A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

I'm back at Uni. Everything is fine, but it does mean updates will be slightly less frequent. Hope everyone is well.

Again, concrit is great :]

"The husband is as bound by duty to the family as we are to obedience to him."

Letters to Wives

Part of Hermione was afraid Draco would faint when they brought Lucius in, so plae had he gone. Another part was busy making known how it felt about Malfoy Sr., Death Eaters on principal, and this whole stupid scenario. But the greatest part was calmly sure of what should be done. The helplessness and anger had given way to something new within her, but she still felt the need to be good and decent, no matter what.

"The Red Room, please, Rinky. And have hot water and more blankets ready if we should need them, if you would." Narcissa, face white as marble, nodded gratefully and sank into the nearest chair as though her legs wouldn't support her anymore.

"Mother?" Draco shook off the sheer horror of seeing Father that way and went to her, concerned that it had somehow spread. Narcissa smiled weakly. "Draco, it's all right. I'm just tired."

Draco nodded reluctantly but didn't step back. "Can we get you something?"

"No, love. I'd like a nap, if you'd not mind." Having lived through the horrors of the last two years, she'd thought that she and Lucius could, finally, enjoy some peace.

Proven wrong, she would see this to it's end-whatever that might be-with grace. And she was pleased to have some time to instruct Hermione; she could feel, she thought, hardness in the girl, such as had sustained her during her trials. She'd need it.

Hermione led her to a smallish room nearby, and Narcissa gave her a weary, still beautiful smile. "Thank you, love. You've been most gracious considering...everything." That was as close as Narcissa could stand to broaching the still painful topic of the string of recent events.

Hermione nodded her thanks. "We can't choose events, but we can choose our reactions to them."

Narcissa put her arms round Hermione, dropped her head and sighed deeply.

Hermione hugged back, more on reflex than anything. "Mother?"

"I'm sorry, love. I thought it better the men not see." She straightened and Hermione felt a flash of empathy for the woman, who'd always been decent to her. Narcissa was smoothing her robes.

"Sometimes all ladies have is one another." She turned and quietly closed the door behind herself. As Hermione walked away, she thought she could hear sobbing. She'd leave the woman her privacy, as it was the only thing she could give.

Draco sat next to the bedside and took his father's hand.

"Father, it's me. We're all here."

Lucius' eyelids fluttered. "Draco?"

"Yes, Father."

Lucius' lips quirked briefly upward. "There's my...boy." He lapsed into sleep, chest hardly moving. Azkaban had reached foul fingers into their lives even more than a year later. Lucius blearily resolved to find a way to fight this and then let himself drift into the black velvet of sleep.

Draco was accustomed to believing his father to be nearly immortal. Since he was smaller than he could remember, he'd thought Father the source of all wisdom, just as he sincerely believed his mother could make any problem better with a smile and comforting word.

His world had changed forever. He stayed by his father, silent, determined to run the family in his absence and be a credit to him. The medi-wizard (well, the new one) came in a great flap of bottle green robes and a smell like bitter loomwort salve and harsh yellow soap.

"Mr. Malfoy? Your father will be unconscious for some time. It might be best for you to see to other things for the moment." Draco gave the little peon a nasty look, prepared to unload on him verbally, but he remembered that Hermione was dealing with everything on her own and probably needed him.

"Very well, but you shall call myself and the mesdames Malfoy the second he stirs, understood?" The medi-wizard went a cheesy white and nodded quickly, remembering the stories about the Malfoys and their skills in Dark magic.

Draco padded through the inner keep, looking for his darling, and found nothing, not even idiot elves. He stalked down the stairs, his instincts demanding he find her before some other male did. Not that his human side was worried, really, but the blood was pounding in his veins all the same.

He finally found her in the kitchens, frowning gravely at a long list. "Precious? What's the matter?"

"Sorry? Oh, nothing. But I thought we should stock up on what we'll need." She showed him the list. "The elves made this so I could get a better idea of what to get."

He kissed her temple. "Excellent, love. Mother is well?"

"She's...had a fright, Draco. Let's let her rest."

"Quite. What can I do?"

Hermione held up a finger, checked a few things off the list, and handed it to the closest elf. "Very good, Lirry. Send them at once, if you would." The cook bowed and DisApparated to find her assistants and berate them on principal.

"Nothing. The elves know what we need. Maybe write some letters?"

"Could." Draco had half hoped to find her over her head, so he could step in and help her, and then she'd feel better. Instead, she was dealing with everything with disconcerting, almost masculine grace. He kissed her forehead almost without thought and then got an idea.

"Let's get some books."

"Books?"

"From the library. For Mother to look at."

"That's a good idea, Draco. What does she like?"

Draco took her arm and Apparated them. "Lady things, I suppose. Flowers and sunsets. Let's dig round and see what we can find."

For her own part, Narcissa briskly rose from the bed and changed into a clean robe, calling Hermione's maid to help. She went and sat beside her husband, shooing the medi-wizard out with a single well placed look.

Lucius fought his way back to conciousness with the sweet feeling of his wife's soft hand in his. He forced an eye open. "Cissy?"

"Lucius?"

"What time is it?"

"Nearly evening." She felt her heart contract painfully, seeing him there, long body seemingly thinner under the big robes. She'd always loved how safe she felt when he embraced her. She was tall for a woman, Narcissa, but Lucius dwarfed her all the same. Only Goyle Sr. and Greyback had been taller than he.

"What happened?"

"You've had a heart spasm of some kind." He smiled up a her and tried to move so she could lie down, annoyed when his head buzzed painfully and he couldn't give her room.

"How long shall I be this way?"

"I don't know, love. Not long."

He didn't ask what had caused it. They both knew. Instead, he asked his wife to climb next to him and she did, and he held her. Lucius had loved Narcissa since he was fifteen. He still loved her, but as they aged, he realised anew every day what a really fine woman she was, how much he needed her.

"Draco and Hermione?"

"Fine as well. She's a good girl." The fact of her unfortunate birth hovered between them like a pall of smoke. Lucius closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Draco...is doing so well."

"He is. He was well taught, I'd say." She kissed her husband's cheek and he tried to make his hand come up to stroke her face. Failed.

"They'll be all right."

"I daresay." Lucius shut his eyes and savoured his wife, smelt her perfume and thought that it would all be worth it to see her happy again. And Draco, the person Lucius loved most in the whole world. And even the girl. It had taken courage for her to behave kindly toward him; as he went back to sleep, Lucius resolved to reward her for it someday.

Narcissa firmly insisted that Draco and Hermione eat supper without her. She wanted to stay with Father, she said, and anyway, they needed to keep normal as much as possible. But she was very glad of the books, and felt touched they'd thought of her.

Neither of them had much of an appetite. The elves were most displeased, and vented their displeasure by hinting more and more heavily that Master and Madam is eating now.

When an elf came and said that Master Lucius was awake, Draco jumped up and ran out without another word. Hermione asked the elves to cover the plates and followed, Apparating herself.

Lucius was indeed awake. Lying propped by pillows, he smiled at his son as Draco came and sat down. "Father? What can I do?"

"Nothing, Draco. I do wish everyone would stop fussing."

Narcissa hmmph'd delicately and adjusted her husband's pillow. "We aren't fussing, love, we want you to be comfortable."

"I feel fine. Just tired."

Draco frowned. "Used to scold me when I'd pretend not to be sick when I was young."

" I also taught you to respect your elders, and we see how well that took, you insolent brat." Lucius' eyes belied his words and Draco chuckled. Lucius raised his head as much as he could and made his voice as persuasive as he could.

"Cissy, why don't you take a walk with Hermione?"

Narcissa stood and extended a hand to her daughter in law. "Let's go and have some tea, hmmm?"

As soon as the men were alone, Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son. "Draco?"

"Yes, Father."

"You seem to smell very much like my cologne."

"Err...I suppose, Father."

"Suppose?"

"Yes, sir. Would you like some water?"

"Thank you, no. How goes it with your wife?"

Draco sighed. "Wish I knew. She's always very polite."

"That's not a word I associate with marriage, love. 'Polite'."

"She is, though."

"I take it that means the intimacy is lacking."

"Yes, Father. Not from lack of trying on the elves' parts."

"Slipping you aphrodisiacs, are they?"

"All the time. If they made aphrodisiac soap, I've no doubt the elves would conspire to make both of us bathe a hundred times daily."

Lucius snorted. "Have you, ah..."

"Once."

"And she wasn't upset?"

"No." Draco's face said something worse had happen, and Lucius decided to leave that subject for the moment. 'If anyone can handle this, Draco, it's you."

Draco flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Father."

"Though you've your faults. Your unrepentant theft of my grooming products, for one."

"Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, Father."

Lucius laughed softly and decided to nap a bit more. "Let the ladies finish their chat, Draco." So he did.

As it happened, Narcissa was asking Hermione much the same. "Once?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Darling, I appreciate how unpleasant it is, but you do understand that it will take more than one time to make a baby?" Narcissa discreetly summoned her maid and sent for something from a trunk in her rooms.

"Yes, of course. But I just can't right now."

"Oh? Are you sick?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't stand the thought of giving up that much control right now."

Narcissa frowned. "Control? Darling, all you need do is lie there. Draco would never hurt you." She gave the girl a pat on the arm. Hermione's eyes were distant, sad, almost.

"He tells me that a lot, actually."

"See? Have you discussed it with him?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

Narcissa decided not to pry further. She handed her daughter in law the book she'd sent for and smiled. "You can always talk to me, Hermione. And here's something that should help you. It did me."

Hermione thanked her and flipped the book over. "Letters to wives."

"This was written by my husband's great grandmother, Virgillia Crabbe Malfoy."

Hermione looked at the densely printed blocks of words, with headings like 'Duty' and 'Obedience' and felt an instant dislike forming in her heart for the woman who'd written this.

"There's a very good chapter in there about...those things...and perhaps you can read it and then we'll talk it over, how does that sound?"

Hermione made herself nod. "I will." She'd read it and refute every point, if she had had to. She felt a thrill in her blood. She'd had very little intellectual stimulation in the past few weeks; the idea of a challenge appealed to her immensely.

Narcissa kissed her cheek and rose. "Good night, love."

"Good night, Mother."

When Draco came back, his wife was sitting at the table with a fresh piece of parchment and a pen, making notes, referencing, muttering to herself. He came and kissed the top of her head.

"Aren't we busy?"

"Mmm."

"What's this you're working on, darling?" Probably some cute little poem he'd praise effusively. But not too much-couldn't have her getting ideas about publishing, could he?

"A refutation of 'Letters to Wives'."

Draco blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your mother gave it to me and I've decided to refute it."

"Precious...' he didn't know what to say. 'Wouldn't you rather read a nice novel?"

Hermione shook her head. "I feel more useful than I have in a long time."

"Everything you do is useful, angel. Couldn't run the house without you."

Hermione didn't answer. Her quill scratched steadily, and once or twice she frowned or laughed a little. Draco felt both impressed and slightly afraid, watching her. It was probably a bad idea to let Hermione do this, he knew at a deep level. She'd struggled so much with adjusting that he should insist she read it as it was written, as a guide to help her understand.

But she seemed at peace. Could he take that from her? He'd spent so long trying to make her happy, and now it seemed she was. She put down her quill, rose, yawning, and went behind her little dressing screen. Leesy appeared to undress her, and five minutes later Hermione was in bed, looking deeply satisfied.

Draco felt a deep pleasure at how satisfied Hermione was looking. He crawled in after her to give her a kiss. 'Going to bed?"

"Yes. My parents were scheduled to come tomorrow. I've told them what happened, so we'll do it another time."

Draco's eyes prickled. "Angel, that is so sweet of you." He meant it, too. Had it been him, he would have invoked the promise made and insisted. He slid her into his arms and rocked. Poor darling, she was being so brave about the whole thing.

"Shall we get some tea to help you sleep?" Hermione shook her head, forcing down the panic she felt at the suggestion. Draco realised a second too late what he'd said and kissed her forehead by way of apology.

"Shall I rub your back, then?" It always put him right to sleep when he was small. Hermione nodded and laid down, letting her eyes close. Draco's hand ghosted lightly between her shoulder blades and rubbed.

As soon as she was sleeping, Draco tiptoed over to look at where her little response was sitting to on the table to dry. Hermione was very bright, of course, but she lacked a male's understanding of how the world worked, of course.

He sat down and spelled the candles low so as not to wake her. He'd humour this a while and then find something else for her to do. She'd get bored, anyway. He wished Mother could take her shopping; that would distract her. And he wanted to buy her something sparkly.

His eyes scanned what she'd written. His heart beat was slowing. This was...oh. She'd demolished the points made. Every presumption, every assertion not based strictly on statistics, she'd ripped the threads of it apart like unravelling a jumper.

Draco set it down where it had been and donned his nightclothes. He felt disturbed that she'd known instinctively what to do- everyone knew masculine and feminine intelligence was different.

Wasn't it?