A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

I'm so sorry this took as long as it did. Midterms hit like a rock, and then a bunch of other stuff.

So we're all clear on this, absolutely none of this was inspired by real life, especially not the part about being chased by vicious water fowl. This definitely never happened to the author, and she isn't nervously watching out the window this second (was that a wing I saw?)

'Games of a gentle sort are ideal to discover more about one's companions.'

-Virgilia Malfoy, 1816

When Draco was eight, he and Greg had flown off the top of one of the towers of Malfoy manor. Draco had flown directly at the ground, attempting a Wronski feint, and knocked himself unconscious after pulling up a moment too late. Besides the mild concussion, several bruises and cuts, and serious smacking he'd got from Father the second he was well enough, Draco had learnt a valuable lesson: practically everything was more fun than that series of events.

Ancient runes, as it turns out, was the exception which proved the rule. Draco listened to Hermione's earnest explanations, mastered the first dozen runes, and decided he'd rather be hurtling toward the ground again, destined for three days of bed-rest and a trip across Lucius' knee for being reckless.

He frowned and set down the pen. 'All right, darling, we've been responsible and done something worth while. Let's have some fun now.'

'We're only twelve in! There's twelve more to learn.'

'And plenty more nights to learn them in.'

'Let's take a break.' Hermione conceded, as Crookshanks leapt up and clamoured between them again, settling himself against Hermione's side. She rubbed his velvet ears and shook her head at her husband.

'Since we're taking a break, we ought to play a game.' Draco laid back against the pillows and raised an eyebrow at his wife. Crookshanks snorted pointedly-who wants to talk when there's a cat to pet?

Draco snorted right back. 'And you called me obnoxious, Hermione.'

Hermione smiled and kept rubbing the cat's head. 'What game did you want to play?'

'Mmm, do muggles play 'ask me'?'

'Ask me?'

'Mmm hmm. One of us asks a question and the other person answers it. If that person doesn't want to answer, he says 'ask me again' and the other person has to rephrase the question. After three times, the person being asked has to pay a forfeit if he still doesn't want to answer.'

Hermione frowned. 'Those sorts of games can make trouble.'

'Oh? How is that?'

'What if one of us asks something the other isn't ready to share?'

'If someone is getting uncomfortable, we'll stop, all right?'

Hermione gnawed her lip. 'All right. But just for a little while. We have another dozen runes to work on.'

Draco nodded, deciding he'd find a way to seduce her into playing until bed, or at least into agreeing they'd stop studying for the night. 'Who first?'

Hermione smoothed Crookshanks' silky neck. 'Who should go first, Crooks?'

Crookshanks stood with a grumble and braced both feet on Draco's chest, pushing gently, scrubbing his scent into the Man's neck and cheeks.

'That was definite. All right, then...hmmm. What should I like to know?' Draco absently smoothed the cat's fur as he pretended to think. 'Why this cat?'

'Sorry?'

'Why this cat, rather than another one? A kitten, say?' He kept stroking the cat; for all he teased everyone, Draco was aware of Crookshanks' role in Hermione's recent better mood, and he wanted to know more about the orange monster.

Crookshanks began his deep, rough purr, nuzzling closer, resting his head on Draco's shoulder. 'I wanted to get a kitten, actually. We went into the shop and Crooks was on the counter, on a basket...'

Crookshanks has given up hope. Day after day, he lies in his basket in a forgot about corner of the Place, waiting for nothing. His Woman has died, and somehow, he ended up here.

The door bell chimes and he doesn't bother to lift his shaggy head. But then he sees Her. A Girl, he thinks, a half grown Big Kitten, with splendid furry curls and a smell of paper and bread and outdoors.

He rises from the basket and waddles over, smelling more. This is the first test. Is this little Human as clever as her smell indicates? He twines about her ankles.

She bends, funny little Human face close to his.' Hello, there. What's your name?'

Crookshanks puts his head up and miaows. For a Persian (well, part Persian-he's a little less than half Kneazle, remember), he has an unusually loud and resonant miaow.

She squats and offers a hand to be smelt. 'Aren't you handsome?' She is, Crookshanks thinks, shaping up. Could She be the one?

He stands up on his cobby little legs and rests his paws on either side of her neck, like a hug. The Girl makes a happy-grimace, showing her foolish little Human teeth, and presses him to Her chest.

Crookshanks finds something he thought he'd lost forever: his purr. That decides him. He presses his cheek to hers, and allows his scent-redolent of contentment, now-to mingle with hers.

'Dad? I know I said I wanted a kitten, but...'

The Man studies him, and Crookshanks swishes his tail proudly, and lifts his tufty ears. The man nods slowly. 'Certainly handsome, isn't he? And he likes you.'

The Girl carries him to the counter, and the witch behind it studies them. 'You're going to take him, then? About time. He's been here four years.'

Crookshanks nestles closer to the Girl. 'I can't imagine why.'

'He's ancient, for one. And stand-offish. You're the only person he's ever taken to.'

Crookshanks sneezes to show what he thinks about this. He's not stand-offish, he was just waiting for the right person, was all.

The Girl snuggles him, and Crookshanks closes his eyes, realising that, at last, he's come home.

'Ah. That explains it. He didn't show his true nature until it was too late.'

'Draco!'

'Love?'

She rolled her eyes. 'I swear, the two of you are jealous of one another.'

'Not jealous, love. I just like having a pillow to myself.'

Hermione ignored the last and said 'My turn now.'

'Should I be afraid?'

Hermione considered gravely, trying to find a place between 'too heavy' and actual fact finding.

'What's your favourite part of living here?'

Draco smoothed her cheek. 'You, precious. You are.'

She flushed a little. 'I mean besides.'

'Oh. I quite like the wine cellar, I suppose. Nice to be master of my own establishment. But really, the best thing is we're all together.'

Draco cupped her cheek. 'My turn. What's yours?'

Hermione felt slightly embarrassed. 'The curios, or the library. Both, really.'

'What's your favourite food?'

'Roast suckling pig. What should I get you for Christmas?' Draco had decided to simply take the most direct course with that one, much though he felt Snape sneering at him from the afterlife.

'I've not thought about it. Maybe some more quills?'

'Hermione, at least say 'ask me again'.'

'All right. Ask me again.'

'What sort of thing that isn't boring should I get you?'

'Bedroom slippers.'

Draco's lower lip poked out a little. 'Hermione.'

Hermione had to stifle a giggle, seeing the infamous Draco Malfoy, prat extraordinaire, pouting at her like a thwarted child.

'It's what I'd truly like.'

'Have me ask you again, love. Please?'

'Draco, I really don't know. I've everything I need.'

'Yes, but what can I get you that you'd like? Something pretty.'

'For my parents to come and visit us again.'

'Yes, of course. But that isn't a gift.'

'Ask me again.'

'What can I get for you once you stop being stubborn and tell me?'

'Can't I have some time?'

'Forfeit! I get to choose. Lie down, hmm?'

Hermione laid on her back, slightly uncertain. Draco gently pressed on her eyelids to get her to close her eyes and then stretched out beside her, then cupped her face lightly in his hands.

'Lie still, love. No opening your eyes and no wiggling.' Draco used the balls of both thumbs to trace Hermione's face, starting with the line of her forehead and travelling down, even touching both eyelids light as a moonbeam.

Hermione lay very still. She was past the point of anger at herself for being able to feel good again, but it still disturbed her, that Malfoy-Draco-could be so intuitive and so gentle with these things. She wondered whether he'd learnt any of this with Parkinson and shoved the thought away like a cloud of plague.

Draco finished on her soft little throat and then laid back. 'Your turn.'

'What would you like for Christmas?'

Draco shrugged. 'Maybe a muffler? Mine's from school.'

Hermione could knit one easily, and decided to invest in some high quality yarn, maybe even attempt a subtle pattern. She opened her eyes to study her husband. How strange it was, that she should call him that.

'Draco?'

'Hmm?'

'Does this even feel unreal to you?'

'No. But like you said, we've had rather different experiences.'

Draco stroked the cat's side, feeling the raspy purr. 'Do you think Crookshanks dreams?'

'Yes. I'm sure he does.' And she was right. Crookshanks sometimes wished he could tell the Big Cats what he saw in his sleep-faces and sounds, lights and silences and darkness. But he couldn't, and anyway, they lacked the facility to understand, being mere Humans and not cats.

'What did you fear most as a child?' Hermione hoped Draco wouldn't think the question too personal, but instead, he steepled his fingers and made a thoughtful face. 'Promise not to laugh?'

'Yes.' Hermione wondered what it could be, and why a small pinkish tinge was spreading across Draco's cheekbones.

'When I was a child, I used to go and feed the water birds at the pond-by the arbour? I'm not sure you've seen it-anyway, one day I dropped some of the crumbs and they must've fallen into the cuffs of my trousers, because next thing I knew, there were a whole mass of ducks trying to peck me. Scared the life out of me.'

Hermione tried desperately to suppress the mental image she was getting. 'I don't blame you. It must have been very scary, to be small and menaced that way.' And slightly hilarious, she reflected as she tried not to think about the little boy she'd seen in the pictures getting pecked at by ducks.

'It was, too. Nightmares for years. And other ones, of course, but really, who lets a three year old feed such nasty creatures? I get a very definite satisfaction every time I eat one of them.' He nodded, apparently satisfied all over again, and Hermione finally lost the struggle not to giggle.

'Hermione! You promised!' But Draco was giggling too, and when they'd sobered, he declared 'I'm going to get my revenge now, my girl. Hmmm...who gave you your first kiss?'

'Victor Krum' she said very promptly 'but won't this make you jealous?'

'No. It's much better for me now that we've...you know.'

'Oh. You?'

'Parkinson. We were eight. Neither of us liked it, at the time.' Draco folded his hands behind his head.

'What do you fear most? Not' he struggled for a way to describe what he meant 'not something abstract, an actual thing, like...dogs, or thunder storms.'

Hermione nibbled her lip. 'I once hurt someone badly. I'd never want to do that again.'

'How do you mean?' Was this an apology? Was Hermione feeling bad about having run off? His brow creased and Draco took her hand in his. 'Tell me about it.'

'Marietta Edgecombe. I cursed her fairly seriously, and I still feel a little guilty about it.'

That wasn't what Draco had expected, not at all. 'You mean to say all these years later, you've not forgiven yourself?'

'It wasn't a kind thing to do, or a sensible one.'

'But a clever one, and one that got the point across.'

Draco felt slightly put out that Hermione hadn't repented of her escape attempt, but he knew better than to push by this point. 'But that's not a thing, Hermione.'

'Is.'

'Isn't either. What else?'

Hermione looked down. 'Heights.'

Draco couldn't think of a less scary thing. 'Why is that?'

'Just don't like the whole idea, I suppose. Not enough...'

'Control?'

She was actually blushing! Too precious, he thought, and nuzzled her neck gently, smelling the cat's scent on her, and soap, and perfumed water. 'It's all right, you know. I shan't laugh a bit.'

Hermione looked down and found herself gently pressing her cheek to Draco's. She half froze, aware she'd hurt his feelings if she pulled away (and she was the sort of person to whom this mattered very much, even now), but not wanting to cuddle him, all the same. Being cuddled was one thing-she could always claim she was only following orders. But this...

Draco's heart was singing. Hermione moved her head a second later and he put his own up, beaming. He didn't need to say anything. Everything felt good to him.

'What about you? What are you afraid of?'

Draco's warm, slightly drunk feeling state of mind disinhibited him a bit. 'My aunt.'

'Bellatrix?'

'Yes.' He didn't stop smiling, but he also didn't like having Trixie in bed with them, even by proxy. Hermione sensed the slight dip in his mood and said quickly 'Your turn.'

'Hmmm...what would it take to get you to come flying with me?'

'Nothing. I'm capable, I just don't care for it.'

'What if I looked very sad? And perhaps managed a tear or two?' Draco scrunched his face up and sniffled piteously, much to Hermione's amusement.

'I'd rather not.'

'Please?' Draco gave her his best puppy dog eyes, and Hermione snorted helplessly. 'Honestly, Draco.'

'What? Girls love that sort of thing.'

'My turn: who told you that load of hippogriff's wallow?'

Draco grinned. 'Mulciber, actually.' He imitated the man's heavy brogue. 'Y'see, lad, you show 'em how sensitive y'are, and it loosens their thigh muscles, which is why ya mustn't do it to nice girls, y'see?'

Hermione knew intellectually that it had to have been more than plotting and torture, but she had trouble bending her perceptions round the idea of Death Eaters at play, Death Eaters teasing the youngest of their number with advice about girls.

'That's awful.'

'Well, perhaps I just need more practice.' Draco put his hands behind his head again and studied his wife. 'Ask me something.'

Hermione shook her head. 'We've twelve more runes, you know.'

'Hoped you'd forget.'

'I never do.'

'Noticed, actually.' Draco put his arms down and raised an eyebrow. 'Wouldn't it be loads more fun to play some more, though? Especially if the elves brought us something sweet to nibble on?'

'You're terrible.'

'It's why the cat likes me. We're alike.'

'I won't disagree with that.'

'Hmmph.'

Hermione laid down next to her husband. 'I've a question.'

'Do tell.'

'What do you think happened to Hypatos Black's son?'

Draco shrugged. 'Don't know. I imagine you've an idea.'

'As it so happens, I do.'

'We'll eat sweets and you can tell me all about it.'

The elves brought up berries and cream, chocolate bon bons and marzipan treats. They tucked in, and Hermione said, very quietly 'I've not got an answer from the archives yet, and Harry's not found anything, but I think...'

'