A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

I'm moderately sure 'What you are in the dark...' is a quote of some kind, but since I'm not sure, I'll just put it out there.

'...And since you must provide your husband with issue, go to his bed with a free and happy heart, for, as unpleasant as the act itself might be, the rewards are many fold-not only a child, as is your duty, but the gift of obedience to your husband.'

Virgilia Malfoy, Letters to Wives

Crookshanks yawned broadly and gave the Older Male a poke in the ear with his paw. Obligingly, he snorted and rolled on his side, and Crookshanks manoeuvred himself into the warm spot left in the bed.

Motion in the hall. The cat rose and stalked out. His Girl was there, wrapped in a robe, and arguing with one of the foul-smelling elves they kept now. 'I feel fine, Leesy."

"Miss is getting sick."

"I just need some solitude, is all. Go back into the bedroom."

Leesy looked sly. 'If Leesy is going in, might be waking Master on accident. Master is not liking this a bit."

The cat admired the casual manipulation, but the Girl didn't. She frowned and bent to pick him up, snuggling him in her arms. 'Leesy, please?"

Leesy felt a little bad seeing how upset Madam was getting. But it was a cold night, and she didn't want Madam to catch a chill or a miasma. She screwed her face up, and tears began to run down her cheeks. "Ohhhh!"

To Leesy's horror, Madam's eyes filled. She inhaled shakily and hugged the cat tighter, looking ready to cry herself. Leesy stopped at once and went to her mistress. "Madam isn't crying, please? Tell Leesy, is fixing it."

Hermione shook her head and simply plopped down, back to the wall, holding the cat for dear life, and swallowed a sob. Since that night she'd kissed him, they'd gone three more times , and Draco walked round whistling these days, smiling at the elves, agreeing to nearly anything.

Hermione swallowed again and made herself smile at the elf. 'I'm all right. Really, I am. Go and enjoy your free time, Leesy."

Leesy shook her head direly. 'Should go and get Madam Narcissa?"

"No! Please, Leesy, I just want to be left alone."

Leesy couldn't wrap her mind round that one. Her brow furrowed, and she cocked her head, wondering why anyone would want to be alone. She was very nearly decided in her resolve to go and get Madam Narcissa when Madam said quietly 'My cycle is due in three days."

"Having back ache?"

"No, I feel all right."

"Is something else?"

"We haven't been using anything, Leesy."

"Using anything?" The elf's brain was spinning in unfamiliar loops and whorls. She shook her head to clear it and wondered if this was some sort of bizarre muggle thing she'd have to train out of Madam.

"Birth control. I could be pregnant." Hermione's bum was cold, and Crookshanks was looking at the door to the bedroom and snorting loudly, indicating he'd prefer a warm fur and a feather bed to the cold stones of the wall and floor.

"Madam is being pregnant?" Leesy jumped up and danced joyfully, eyes streaming with tears. Hermione hissed. 'I don't know. Stop it, they'll hear." She pressed a hand to her midriff, feeling nothing, wanting to feel nothing.

"But Master is being so happy if Madam is having baby." Leesy was confused as to why Miss wasn't eagerly contemplating the possible lack of her cycle. All the elves would be overjoyed, and Leesy herself was anticipating pampering Madam for most of a year, feeding her special foods, grooming her and helping her keep cheerful.

"Yes. I know. They'd all be." Hermione heaved herself to her feet and walked toward the library, instinctively searching for peace in the stacks of books and scrolls. She spelled up the lights and settled in the chair, wondering how long she had before Leesy ratted her out to Draco or Lucius.

"Leesy? Would you please bring me that diary I found?"

Leesy did it, also bringing a warm fur. Hermione snuggled under it and opened the book, feeling a tentative sense of peace seep in.

'Hee is somewhate beter in hes personne tonight, butt I feere his minde will niver recovre. Wee have beene oblig'd to putt him in a celle, but hee canne agin talke to us. Iff hee is no more violnt, perehabs we will soone releese him bak above stars.'

'Tonight the ef was attac'd with sore volnce when itt wente to bring himm bred. Itt was muche hurte. I doo no more no whate I shuld doo."

Hermione's heart went out to the man, separated as they were by centuries. 'I soo lov'd hees muther I did thenk nott on wot mite hapen when the boy was full growen. Had I but noen, I telle misef I would hav expos'd himm, but itt is nott soo. I lov'd himm then. I lov himm noww."

There was rustle at the door. Hermione turned to find Draco, eyebrow raised. "Love?"

"Hello, Draco."

He came and sat down, raking a hand through his hair. 'Something wrong?"

"No. I just wanted some solitude."

Draco took her hand in his. 'Then something is wrong. Why didn't you wake me, angel?"

Hermione was genuinely confused. 'Why is everyone so surprised?"

"Wizarding people don't do that. Why would you?"

"Want solitude?"

"Mmm hmm. Wouldn't you rather be with someone?"

Hermione shook her head. 'Sometimes I just want a little time with my own thoughts, is all."

Draco thought that probably this had to do with her twisted muggle family life. He stroked her hand a moment and decided to pursue this later.

'What thoughts are those, darling?"

"We've been...well, we had relations. We aren't using anything." Hermione looked at the wall, not wanting to see his face, the look of curiosity in his eyes slowly drain away and harden into annoyance or distrust.

"Using...anything?"

Hermione felt like she'd fallen into 1800 sometimes. She sighed. 'Birth control, Draco."

Draco blinked. 'Sorry?"

"We haven't been using something to keep from getting pregnant."

Draco nodded and his eyes softened slightly. 'Is it the pain that has you worried? About having a baby?"

"No. There's potions for that."

"Are you scared of losing your figure?"

Hermione snorted. 'Are you seriously asking me that?"

Draco dipped his head. 'Touché. But there must be a reason you're afraid."

"We're not ready, Draco. I'm not ready. It's too soon."

"Isn't. We've elves, and Mother will help you, if you need."

Draco cocked his head, wondering at the compulsion that led Hermione to question everything, to dig about in things when she could have simply left the details to him. He'd been raised to see that a prerogative of his place, that lesser people worried about the little things. Wizarding people of Draco's station would be nearly helpless to manage the mundanities of everyday life-and took pride in it.

Why couldn't Hermione do that? She was too precious to waste on silly things-didn't she understand that? Draco lowered his head to hers and breathed deeply, smelling her smell of good soap and lavender.

Hermione struggled to find a way to describe how she felt. 'I appreciate that, Draco. But it would be best for us to get used to one another, don't you think?" Hermione jerked her head sharply, trying to crack the cartilage and relieve the sudden stiffness creeping up from her shoulders.

Draco's hands went up and he felt tentatively with his fingertips, looking for the muscle knot. 'Oh, I don't know. A baby would draw us closer together, I'd say."

"That would be most unfair to the baby, though. We shouldn't have a child just for selfish reasons like that."

"Selfish? The baby would have everything, Hermione. You know that."

Hermione nodded. 'Yes, except for parents who are used to one another."

"Like I said, it would the elves who did the things you wouldn't wish to. We'd still have plenty of time to get to know one another better."

His hands were still lightly probing her muscles, and he began to knead, making sure not to hurt her. Hermione hardly noticed; she was too busy trying to come up with an argument.

"I might not be. Silly to worry about it ahead of time, I suppose."

"Mmm, quite."

"And I should be working on my refutation, anyway."

"That. How long is it now?"

Hermione couldn't read his tone. 'About eighty pages, I'd say. I haven't counted."

Draco's eyes widened a little. 'My word, the Letters are only what, fifty?"

She nodded. Draco felt a strange pride, mixed with a sort of gentle horror at all this; he looked thoughtfully at the manuscript. 'What do you aim to do with it?"

Hermione had known this would happen. She took a deep breath and folded her hands. "I don't know. It's important to me, is all."

"I understand, darling. I do. But aren't you tired of being so serious all the time?"

"Serious?'

"Always fighting, Hermione. Wouldn't it be nice not to?"

Hermione shrugged. 'I don't mind. I'm not afraid to fight."

"Never said you were. Said I'd thought you'd feel happier. Take some time to play, hmmm?"

"I do. And I like doing the things I do. It's not work for me."

Draco sighed. 'Yes, I know. But...why not take up sewing? Or perhaps get some ladies together for a luncheon?"

Hermione tried to keep a straight face. 'Ladies? Like Parkinson and Bulstrode? What will I say to them, 'More trifle before you claw my eyes out, Miss Parkinson?"

"Hmph." Draco poked his lip out a little. 'And here I thought you'd be open to trying new things."

"I am! Just not that."

"What'll you do once you're through with the Letters? Start on Mrs. Leek?"

"Probably. Why is it 'Missus' and not 'Madam', by the way?"

Draco was pleased to know something she didn't. 'Missus is an abbreviation for 'Mistress'. Used to be, nice women were always called 'Mistress', even the unmarried ones. 'Miss' was slang for a wh- well, something not very nice." He was mortified he'd almost used a word like that in front of his wife, but Hermione shook it off.

"Why the change?"

"There was a fashion for all things French in the early 19th century. Never changed back."

Hermione was smiling. Really smiling. Draco felt both thrilled and slightly bemused. He'd just thrown out a random fact, and here she was acting like he'd given her something of value.

'That's interesting. I'll bet there are books about this."

"See, this is what I mean. No playing, always with some dusty old book."

"I play all the time."

"Do not."

"Do. Here, Crooks." She clicked her tongue, and Crookshanks ambled toward her, giving the Male a look to show what he thought of his technique. He'd apparently got mating down, but how did he expect to continue with this if he didn't play the part of adoring swain? Had he even brought the Girl something dead to show his feelings?

Hermione swished her wand and a clean quill rose in the air and swished again. The quill took off, flying round the room like a broom. Crookshanks stretched, yawned, and sprang after it, face tense with the thrill of the hunt.

Draco grinned. 'You learnt it just for him?"

"I invented it just for him. Professor Flitwick gave me ten extra points for it."

"Just for making a feather fly?" The outrage in his voice was almost palpable, and Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed. 'It was years ago. And no, watch."

Crookshanks came closer to the hovering quill. He leapt, and caught the thing between his blunt, splayed paws. As soon as he's downed it, the feather split in two, and Crookshanks happily jumped up to chase both parts.

"Not too shabby, love. I suppose it was worth five points, at most. But still."

"Five?" Hermione turned and gave him an offended glare. 'I was fourteen. How many fourteen year olds invent spells at all?"

"Still. Five points. Perhaps deduct one for this stroppy attitude."

It was Hermione's turn to pretend to pout. It surprised her, how many facets Draco had. She'd learnt over the past few weeks that there were facets to everything, that the true shape of all things is a diamond, which reflect many edges. And he was actually teasing her. She tipped her head away.

Draco swished and retrieved a feather of his own. He tickled her under the chin with it. Hermione giggled and tried to swat it from his hand. Draco ticked her again, this time on her ear.

"Draco! Stop that!"

"Stop what? I saw dust there. Probably from all the books, I should think." He brought the feather a little closer and ever so slowly started for her cheek. Hermione giggled harder and brought her hand up. Draco nodded gravely and simply went to tickle her belly instead.

"Draco!"

"Love?"

He cast the feather aside and simply started tickling, pinning her easily and wriggling his fingers across her ribs and into her knee hollows, laughing himself. Hermione flailed, giggling, and somehow managed to tickle back. Draco jerked and chortled; he was embarrassingly ticklish.

Crookshanks, meanwhile, saw the wrestling match on the bed and decided to join in, jumping on Draco's back and flailing his way between them, using his bottlebrush tail as a makeshift weapon. All three combatants collapsed, panting and red, in a heap.

"See? Was that-so hard?" Draco struggled to catch his breath a moment. Hermione shook her head and then sat, gently moving Crooks to his place by her side. 'No, of course not."

"We should do it more often, then."

"You can't just attack me."

"Why not?"

Hermione hmmph'd and rolled on her side, cuddling Crookshanks. Draco remembered to freeze the two flying quills and laid down as well, still breathing a little hard.

Hermione rolled back over and smiled a little. 'I'd never suspected this side of you."

"No?"

"No."

"Nor I you, I expect. Not the part about liking to fight, everything else."

"I don't...I mean, it's not as though I seek out conflict, Draco. It's just that so many people and things and have no one to advocate for them. Shouldn't I, if I can?"

Draco had never thought about it. 'Darling, that's admirable, but...there's so much to do. Like I've said, you must be tired."

"Sometimes. But I'd rather be tired doing something than well rested doing nothing."

Draco didn't get it. 'We aren't that sort of people, precious."

"Sorry?"

"We aren't the sort of people that worry about little things. We can afford to only concern ourselves with things of importance."

Hermione was deeply proud of herself for not giving Draco a sharp answer. Instead, she inhaled and said, very politely 'But because w-because that's the way it is, don't we have more of a responsibility of to watch out for people less fortunate than ourselves?"

"There are charities for that."

"Muggles have a saying, Draco. 'What goes round comes round."

"What's that to do with us?"

"That if nothing else, we can believe that good things will happen because we do good things."

"Do you believe that, love? Truly?"

Hermione felt her eyes fill a little. 'Sometimes I do." She thought of a lifetime spent in service to others and to knowledge, a long stretch of sharing notes and being good, reading when others played, helping firsties find the Charms classroom, picking up socks from the floor and always closing the door behind herself.

"And the other times?"

"I think I could get much farther if I wasn't so...so..."

Draco nodded, encouraged. 'Why haven't you ever?"

"I don't want to be that sort of person."

Draco was overcome for no reason he could name. He'd felt sorry for Hermione when she told him about her wretched muggle childhood, but this feeling was deeper; he was finally seeing her a little, and it was like he'd surfaced from water. He'd seen her secret heart, the part of herself she hid.

'People don't love you for what you do, Hermione. We love you for what you are."

"One doesn't do things just for love, Draco."

"No? Why, then?" He carded his fingers through her hair and hoped she was pregnant. Even if she wasn't, there was always next month. And he felt glad she was telling him this, as mad as it was.

"Because what you are in the dark in what you really are."

Draco considered this for a long moment. 'I don't quite follow."

"What if I did? No one would know, most of the time. But I'd know. And I'd think about it, and it would tell me what sort of person I am really."

Draco spelled down the lights and pressed himself to her. She indicated she was willing, and he slid atop her, finding her damp. He thrust silently, and then, finishing, rolled off, covering himself in the sudden chill.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"When will you know?"

"By next week, at the latest." There were spells, and the elves would know, if nothing else.

"You'll tell me at once?"

"Yes. I don't think I've fallen pregnant." Yet, murmured the unquiet ghost, the potential quickening inside her, under her heart. Not yet. Please, not yet.

Draco squeezed her hand. 'We'll slay that dragon as we come to it, love. Together. As a family."

Hermione nodded silently and they fell asleep, thinking the same thing in the most different way possible.

The elves were well pleased. In the kitchen, Leesy gave a full report, joined by the nasty cat. The elves nodded gravely to one another, until Tippy raised an important point. 'They is not needing to be guided?"

The other elves were silent for a long, horrible moment, until Leesy said, with great finality 'Law of averaging. Is fluke."

And, having determined that, the elves dispursed, already debating what the baby-if there was one-would be called, and how they would convince Madam-whom, it was agreed, needed a little work-to let them raise it totally, as it proper.