A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

My apologies for the confusion in posting this. My laptop omitted part of the chapter.

I have decided against publishing the text of the Refutal, because it would inject an unwelcome hint of politics, and also because it would slow the story down. Feel free to PM to discuss this.

All quotes attributed to Virgillia Malfoy in this chapter were borrowed from 'Polite Academy' published anonymously circa 1773, and ten warped out of shape. My thanks and regrets to the author(s).

"A Sensible woman, knowing she is an object of love, born to be admired, strives therefore to cultivate those feminine attributes which we call correct in our sex: Modesty, Chastity, and Soberness in manner.

As the women were sharing their private grief, the men were stirring. Lucius was working a crossword puzzle with Crookshanks' help. Draco knocked at the door as Lucius was contemplating aloud 'The digestive organ of a Hungarian Horntail."

Crookshanks snorted and gnawed the bedclothes a bit. 'The crop! Well done."

There was a knock at the door. 'Come in."

"Hello, Father. Have you seen Hermione?"

"Mother went to chat with her downstairs. I suspect they're having some sort of feminine cabal down there."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"Me, neither. Sit down, love. How was your nap?"

It had been a fine nap, in fact. 'Excellent. I wish Hermione might have joined me, though. She's working herself quite a lot."

"Industry is next to obedience, Draco."

"Yes, Father."

"Is she writing the refutation?"

"She is."

"Hmmm. This should be interesting, to say the least."

Draco nodded and scratched the cat's velvety ears. 'Quite. I'd forgot how bright she really is."

"Of that, I'd never had doubt. I just worry she'll be disappointed by the results of this...thing."

"I was, too, but she might not even want to publish it. I think she just wants a diversion."

Lucius raised his eyes and smirked. 'Mmm hmm. And you believe this?"

"I'd smell if she were lying, Father."

"Touché. Another word for refulgent?"

Crookshanks leant over Lucius and nuzzled at the hand which bore his signet ring. Lucius smiled. 'Shining. Jolly good." The cat looked at Draco and seemed almost to smirk. 'Snide creature."

"Now, Draco."

"He sleeps on my head at night. Like a great, snoring fur hat."

"It means he likes you."

"Can't he like someone else for a night or so?"

Lucius chuckled. 'Do you remember when you were small and you'd have a nightmare, and come and get in bed with Mother and I?"

Draco groaned mentally. 'Yes, Father."

"You had very cold little feet, and you kick in your sleep. That's all I'll say."

"What, do you whisper in the cat's ear to suggest ways to torment me?"

Lucius looked affronted. 'A Malfoy, Draco, whisper a suggestion? Of course not. I make implications to him quite openly."

Draco huffed. 'Ha ha. Between you and this pestilential beast and Hermione and Mother, a man can't get any peace at all."

"I shall cry myself to sleep tonight, Draco, truly. Now, what's a six letter word for purple?"

Hermione and Narcissa came up not long after, both of them bearing a copy of the refutation. Lucius raised an eyebrow and said nothing, but Draco, having decided he'd not seen enough of his wife, made excuses for both of them and led her back to their rooms.

"May I see, darling?"

She handed him his copy. 'Mother's got one, too."

"Perfect. You look tired, though."

"A little. Bit of a headache."

"Too much writing in dim light does that. Let's call for some of that headache potion you've been making and we'll cuddle a while." She drained the phial, knowing it was safe because she'd made it, and let Leesy undress her behind the screen the little elf had found them.

Draco had settled comfortably atop the covers, holding the sheath of papers. He was rather excited to read what Hermione had been working on for over a month, but he wanted her settled first.

When they'd first been married, it had frustrated Draco to no end that Hermione was totally unresponsive to his affection. He was used to a culture where people touched freely, where loved ones cuddled and caressed and nestled freely their whole lives (only in private, of course), and it had shocked and upset him when he'd try to show Hermione his feelings and she'd shove him away.

She was past that, of course. Without being told, or even asked, Hermione rested her head on his chest as he laid back, and he wrapped an arm about her. 'Try and have a rest, would you? It worries me that you get so little sleep."

"It shouldn't. I don't need much."

"Bollocks. Everyone's happier when they've had enough sleep."

"I feel pretty well, these days."

"Of course you do." He kissed the top of her head and her breathing evened. He figured the headache potion, with it's mild relaxing effects, was making her drowsy. He waited until he was sure she was sleeping and started to read.

Narcissa pretended not to see her husband's eyes wandering to her reading material. His eyes would slid over and try to skim, and she, all innocence, would move the paper ever so slightly to make it more challenging. Finally, pretence gone, Lucius grumbled with frustration and rested his head on his wife's shoulder.

"Cissy, darling."

"Lucius."

"Love."

"Is there something you might like?"

He mock frowned. 'There's a fine how do you do."

"Should you like to share with me?"

"I'd never dream of asking."

"Of course not. Here, I'll give you what I've read." She handed him a few pages and then they both settled back, Lucius smirking a little. 'Still have that Malfoy charm."

"I know, love. And it's very effective, as well."

"Got you to marry me."

"Well, your elves did make the best canard a l'orange I'd ever eaten."

"Hmmph." He playfully poked her in the side, and laughing a little, they set to the serious work of seeing what their daughter in law had wrought.

Draco firmly believed that Hermione was the smartest woman he'd ever met. She wasn't cunning, but for pure intellectual ability, she could match anyone, and maybe more.

So it didn't surprise him that what she'd written was excellent. He read it, trying as hard as he could not to have any preconceived notions. He found himself nodding at some points and disagreeing soundly at others, but at least he wasn't bored.

Hermione was deeply asleep and Draco was a quick reader-he'd read the whole thing by the time Hermione's lids started to flutter.

"Draco?"

"Hmmm?"

"What time'sit?"

"Oh, midnight."

Hermione immediately sat up, eyes wide. 'I slept that long?"

Draco chuckled. 'No, precious, of course not. I'm having you on."

She gave him a distinctly sour look and muttered something under her breath involving Crookshanks and loafers. Draco snorted. pointedly ignored the last bit, and then set the manuscript down on the bedside table.

"What did you think?"

Draco sighed. 'That you made some valid points, and some less valid ones. That it was well written. That I'm proud of you, darling, but that goes without saying."

Hermione smiled to acknowledge the praise and then cocked her head. 'What parts didn't you like?"

Draco sighed deeply. 'Angel, I don't understand your objection to the idea that women were made to be loved, for one. Men like to love women. Nothing makes me happier than doing something to please you."

"I appreciate it, Draco. I do. But...it puts women in a bad position. It encourages men to expect more of us than we can give, for one. Isn't every person made to be loved?"

"Yes, but it's special for women. Women are fragile and precious, especially women of quality. That's why I protect you from things which might upset you. Like that awful rat, remember?"

"That's just it, though. It's not good to overprotect people. From what I can tell, Draco, a lot of women of your-this-class wouldn't be able to function in the real world."

"Of course not. No one expects them to."

"Is playing quidditch dangerous?" Draco blinked. Hermione wasn't the scatterbrained sort who switched from one topic to another like a bird. He took her hand and held it.

"Yes, love. Well, it can be."

"But your parents let you play."

"Of course they did. It's a controlled kind of danger, more or less."

"So over-protecting you might not have been the best strategy?"

Draco's eyes widened. 'It's hardly the same."

"Why isn't it? Shouldn't women be allowed the chance to excel? To take a calculated risk?"

"Darling, a lady could be bothered by someone vulgar. Or else treated roughly, or-"

"Or you could have broken an arm, or crashed head first into the box, or perhaps got hit with a bludger's bat."

Draco recognised they were at an impasse. He couldn't help but laugh-she'd painted him deftly into the corner. He kissed her cheek and breathed her scent a long moment.

'Touché, Hermione. Thing is, though, that a lot of people won't see it that way. They won't be able to accept it in those terms."

"Oh.' Hermione wondered what Draco meant to do. He didn't seem to be trying to outright dissuade-or worse, forbid-her from this. What did he want?

'Would you help me?"

Draco didn't know what Hermione was playing at. Was she finally letting him in a bit?

"Help you?"

"Help me phrase things in a way that Wizarding people would respond to?"

"I could. I could do that."

Hermione wondered what the price would be. Draco seemed to be wondering that too, because he called for some pumpkin juice and sipped meditatively. 'All right. But you have to do something for me."

Hermione sipped her own juice and waited for it. 'What something?"

"Come away with me."

"Sorry?"

"We're having a honeymoon. Not right away, but as soon as everything's settled down, and you aren't taking any work with you. Fun only, understand? We'll go...somewhere...I don't know, wherever. But you're not to find a list of reasons about why we can't go, and you aren't to do anything serious while we're there. Agreed?"

Hermione nodded. She wondered why she'd made him the offer. He seemed to be sincere, she supposed, and she could the logic of what he was saying. And they'd be married forever-perhaps she could get to know him a little better this way.

"Agreed. And why don't I start teaching you ancient runes, as well? We talked about it a long time ago."

Draco nodded. 'Be damned nice to be able to read those things for myself. Have you written Potter and the Ministry yet?"

Hermione shook her head. 'I got busy."

"Well, why don't you do that? We'll see about supper after, hmmm?"

Hermione did it. She knew Draco would read the letters, and her own resignation disgusted her. But she could batter her head against the walls of convention as much as she liked, and it would avail her nothing. She felt as though her treatise, as small a step as it was, put her anger to use, made it a fine tool, like a scalpel, rather than something that could only crush, like a stick.

Draco hated leaving the cosy warmth of the bed, even in his mind. He smiled charmingly. 'Just have an elf bring the lap desk, love, please?"

"I need to get up, Draco. The brewing-"

"Will get done another day. The bed is awfully nice and warm, isn't it?"

Hermione huffed. 'Draco, we're being lazy."

"And?"

"There's things to be done."

"Like cuddling. And lounging."

"Draco!"

"Hermione!" He mimicked her tone so well that Hermione had to surrender, giggling a little, and he took advantage of the state of things by pulling her backward, pressing her lightly against the pillows and rolling atop her for a kiss.

Hermione flailed, trying to tickle even as she kissed back a bit. Draco snorted and tugged the blanket over them both, then fell to the serious business of inciting a tickle fight of epic proportions. Hermione laughed, writhing beneath him, and attacked his elbows, which prompted Draco to yowl, wriggling away, and then pounce again.

Abruptly, there came a knock at the door. 'Hello?"

"Hello, Father. Everything all right?"

There was a dry sort of pause from the other side. 'I daresay. Good evening, children." They heard his footsteps growing ever quieter, and then the click of the door latch.

In the dark warmth of the bed fur, Hermione and her husband stared at each other and then collapsed laughing. They weren't even aware of having their arms round one another, cuddling together in merriment.

Lucius closed the door behind himself. 'Love? Are the children all right?"

"I should say."

"What do you...oh."

"Indeed."

Narcissa giggled. 'Good for them."

"I don't know. If they don't stop to eat, Draco won't be strong enough for me to tease."

Narcissa sighed, rolling her eyes. 'I am so glad you've your priorities, darling."

"As well you ought to be." Lucius gave her his best sneer, and Narcissa, who'd been married to him for more than half her life, snorted and poked his belly. The sneer vanished, replaced by a grin.

"Do you think they were...'

"Laughing like maniacs. I've no idea."

"If they're laughing, they're doing it wrong."

"Not necessarily. Draco's awfully ticklish. Perhaps Hermione is as well.'

"This doesn't bear thinking about."

"Quite. Do you suppose this means we'll have to shift for ourselves in regards to supper?"

"I shan't go and ask the children, certainly."

Lucius kissed his wife's neck. 'Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

Crookshanks rose with a grumble of disgust. Honestly, humans and their urges! He made his way down the corridor, just in time to smell the impending arrival of elves, bearing trays of juicy meat and other delicious comestibles. That, at least, he could approve of in good conscience. He'd go and help the Big Cats eat, that was all.

Draco popped out from under the bedrobes in time to get what felt like a fuzzy orange bludger to the head. He gasped, flopping against the pillows as a defence mechanism. Crookshanks purred approvingly and began to knead Draco's chest, turning his head so he could watch Hermione at the same time.

"What a handsome boy, Crooks. Yes, you are. Yes, you are."

Draco gasped something. "-orange boulder-"

"Don't be silly, Draco. Crookshanks weighs a stone, if that."

"How comforting for me as he crushes my windpipe."

"He's showing how much he loves you."

"Adorable. Off, you damned throw-rug!" Crookshanks miaowed his disapproval and lay between them as Hermione began to hand feed him tender shreds of roast chicken.

'Hermione! Don't feed that beast your food!"

"There's plenty. And he works hard, defending us all from rats and other pests."

"Doesn't seem to work, I must get fifty letters a day from various people."

Hermione eyed him askance. 'Parkinson?"

"Among others. Now, let's eat supper and then we'll find something fun to do."

"We could start ancient runes."

"Fun, I said. We could read ghost stories or-"

"Explore the curios a bit more."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. 'Runes it is, then." He went to take a roll for himself and was stopped when Crookshanks climbed lazily into his lap, padding contentedly, stuffed with chicken and attention.

"Spoilt creature."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and ate a bit of fish. 'What? Never said I wasn't, you know."

"True."

And on that note, they settled down to eat, having made some small progress in understanding one another.