A/N: Love to reviewers and my dear Countess Black

This chapter is sort of an unofficial two parter. I skimmed the legal type stuff this time so I can do a better job on it next chapter (library doesn't open until tomorrow, and there's stuff I need there).

I'd like to take a moment to remember some of the women who, like the ones in this chapter, went before-Fanny Wright, Victoria Clafin Woodhull, Annie Besant, Lucretia Mott, Christabel Pankhurst and hundreds of others.

Thank you, ladies.

Clustered about the table in the kitchen, the ten elves were troubled, troubled indeed, by all this strange new movement amongst their family. The cat, too, had opted to attend, and was lazily stretched across the cooling hearthstones, tail flicking back and forth like a fly swatter.

'Is not good for baby!' The elves muttered their agreement. They'd quite decided how the whole confinement, (and next twelve years, as it happened) would go, and this was assuredly not in the plan.

'Madam is getting sick!' Another murmur. Crookshanks stood, snorting pointedly-his Girl had never had a sick day in her life, and from what he could tell, the little human kit was fine as well.

Lirry turned and glared at the nasty creature. 'Is being different now! Is being delicate!'

Crookshanks tossed his head. Bah. I taught her everything she knows. He had perfect faith that his Girl could do anything-except stalking mice, she'd never shown as much facility as he might have liked in that regard.

The elves resolved to ignore the nasty creature and concentrate on more important things, like manipulating Madam into staying home, wrapped in furs and cashmere throws, having her legs massaged to keep them from swelling.

As it happened, Draco and Hermione were having a bit of a meeting of their own. Burrowed under their furs, they laid naked, Draco's hand on Hermione's belly, talking to it as he often did.

'And so, the widow got to make her pie, and the gnome learnt his lesson about taking things that didn't belong to him.' His hand made a lazy circle just above her navel, careful not to tickle.

Hermione snuggled into the robes, stifling a yawn against the back of her hand. 'My goodness, I could drift off right now.'

Draco kept rubbing. 'Then do, angel. I don't mind.'

'I mind. It's still early. I'd like to go over my notes about -'

Draco smiled. 'My darling, we both know you'll be splendid. Why not take a rest, hmm?'

Hermione shook her head. 'It's habit, more than anything.'

Draco stopped rubbing. 'Why don't you bring your things here? I'd like to tell the baby another story.'

Hermione slid into her wrapper and stood, gasping a bit at the cold stones on her feet. In a flash, Leesy appeared, bowing, and handed Hermione her slippers. 'Madam is catching chill!'

'I'm fine, Leesy.'

Leesy and Draco looked equally put out. 'Madam is having hot milk now, going to bed?'

'Darling, all the heat is escaping the robes.' Draco tried to look as tragic as possible-he wanted nothing more than to lie there with his wife, telling their child a story. He groaned, slipped on his own nightshirt and followed Hermione into the other room.

Hermione sat down at her escritoire and pulled out her notes, settling in for a good read. Draco huddled on the chaise lounge, shivering pointedly for a moment.

'Draco, are you all right?'

'Fine, fine.'

She set down her pen and looked at him, concern written all over her face. 'Shall I call for some hot milk?'

'Shan't help.' He settled back, and Hermione snorted before she went to her work, muttering reminders to herself.

'May I ask what that is?'

'My notes for the committee.'

'Yes, I know. But I mean...'

Hermione paused. 'It's a list of all the relevant laws, and potential precedent for changing them. And some personal observations.'

Draco felt his stomach cramp. The ever present fear that something might happen to separate the two of them had been nibbling at him for days, and he swallowed a bit harder than he otherwise might and said, as calmly as he could 'Oh?'

Hermione nodded, feeling his eyes on her. 'Yes.'

'About what?'

'About all the reasons these laws are barbaric. I understand you don't see them that way, but...'

'But?'

Hermione inhaled. 'At the end of the day, it's about choice, Draco. We're all citizens of Wizarding Britain, and we deserve the same rights. All of us, all the time.'

Draco considered. 'You've said, love.' He wasn't one hundred percent sure how he felt about all this. He'd gladly give Hermione practically anything she might ask him for and she knew it.

But this had really struck a chord, and it made her sincerely happy. And Madam Dinglebolt was a prominent woman, as was Bilquis Rochefort. At least that cut down on the risk of their being outright harassed somehow.

'Do you remember when I brought you home, love?'

Hermione's stomach tightened reflexively. 'Yes.'

'And we...disagreed? Is it because of that?'

Hermione wondered that sometimes herself. 'That's a complicated question, Draco. In part it's just because I think it's wrong.'

'But some of it is the other, isn't it?'

'Yes.' She went back to her notes, and Draco wisely gave her space. Hermione abruptly set down the pile of books she'd been looking through and said 'May I ask you something?'

'Of course, love.'

'Why did you do that? When we disagreed.'

Draco spread his hands expansively. 'Darling, you are the first muggle born person with whom I have ever had prolonged contact. I thought muggles do it like we do, and that you were being stubborn.'

'You were trying to break me?' Hermione's voice was carefully, studiedly neutral. Draco cringed internally-he hated it that Hermione wouldn't express feelings to make herself feel better.

'Not as such, no. It took a long while for me to understand what you'd lost, I suppose, because it was all relatively painless for me.'

Hermione nodded. 'It would have been easier to...' What? Never have been locked in room? Married Ron? Been happy and normal?

'To what?'

She shook her head. 'I don't quite know myself.'

'We were all very impressed with how you coped, you know.' Draco meant it, too. In some ways, it might have easier had she dealt with things with a bit less dignity- it had been disconcerting to have her lie beside him, seething silently for days.

'Thank you.'

He stood and went to stand behind her, wanting to touch her. 'Precious, I-would it be all right if I touched you? If you aren't in the mood...' He didn't want her upset, after all, for her moment.

Hermione half turned in her chair. 'Thank you for asking, Draco. I'd like to wait a bit, if you wouldn't mind.'

'Is it because you're upset?'

'Yes. This is not a good subject.'

'I know, but it seems wrong to keep avoiding it, especially since we've a baby coming.'

Hermione nodded. 'I agree. Just give me a few moments. I used to resent very much-I'm not a tactile person, and it used to make her very upset when we'd disagree and you'd touch me after.'

'Truly?' Draco's brow wrinkled. Hermione nodded, eyes on her papers. She pulled her wrapper tighter and finally called for a maid and asked that a brazier be brought so they could warm themselves.

'Yes. It felt intrusive.'

'I never thought of it that way. I didn't mean-intrusive? Don't you like cuddling?' It was unthinkable to him that someone shouldn't. He hadn't meant to upset her by touching her. Draco had been raised to see affectionate touch as an unqualified good, and his brain was spinning.

'Sometimes I do. But it made me very confused when you'd do something, well, cruel, and then want me to nap with you or let you play with my hair five minutes later.'

'I wanted to make sure you understood I still cared. Just because someone's behaviour isn't perfect doesn't mean we don't still l-you know.'

'It was too much, Draco, was all.'

He nodded. He found that, broken down into manageable pieces, the past could be calmly discussed. But it was hard, and if it was hurting Draco, he suddenly realised that Hermione must hurt more by a factor of many dozens.

'Are you all right?'

'Of course I am.' His face was waxen, and Hermione stood from her labours and shocked him with a quick hug.

He hugged her back, and then slid his arm under her legs as the other locked about her waist. Bridal style, he carried her back to their warm nest of furs and swans' down, and applied some of his new found wisdom in helping them both forget their pain a while.

The elves pondered on how to make their plan work. The next day dawned fair and cold, and Madam was up early, bustling about before it was even light. Leesy came and did her hair, prepared for the daily fight about the underclothes, and decided a direct approach would behove them all.

Leesy got Madam into her drawers and chemise just fine, along with a pair of warm stockings, and then held up the flannel band. 'Madam?'

'No, Leesy.'

'But Madam...'

'I mean it, Leesy.'

Leesy's eyes filled with tears. 'But Madam is getting a chill if she is not wearing band.'

'Not anymore than before I was pregnant.'

'But baby is getting cold! Could be bad draft. Or a miasma.'

Hermione wasn't convinced a miasma was a real thing, let alone that the baby would catch one. She stood her ground, mainly on principle, and also because the band was itchy.

'Leesy, if I get cold, I promise I'll tell you.'

'Leesy could be getting Mistress Narcissa. Or Mistress Annemarie, and see what they is saying about Madam getting chilled in the bones.'

Hermione bit down on a laugh. This was new. 'Leesy, did you just threaten to tell my mother?'

'Yes, Madam. Good old Leesy! Faithful Leesy!' The elf looked to be gearing up for a good wail, and Hermione, as she always did, threw up her hands. 'Really, there's no need for this.'

'Is need! Madam is needing to be well!'

Hermione sat down and lightly pressed her belly. She was little more than a month pregnant, and so it was hardly as though she looked or felt much different. But she knew she ought to feel excited, and didn't.

'I'm sorry' she thought to her baby. 'I know I should want you to come.' And it wasn't as though she bore it any antipathy, exactly. But she couldn't help but remember the last six months, and the prospect of more change made her worse and not better.

Leesy stopped at once. 'Madam?'

'I'm fine, Leesy.'

'Not fine. Tell Leesy?'

Hermione shook her head and sniffled. 'Another time. For now, let's concentrate on getting to the courtyard by nine, all right?'

Leesy and Hermione compromised with a heavier petticoat, and the elf dressed her mistress in a pair of dark grey robes and a goblin chain. Madam looked beautiful, thought Leesy, who beamed as she took Hermione's cloak and small reticule. The plan had thus far been a failure, but Leesy would reconvene the elves and they'd have a second go.

Narcissa and Draco were waiting for them. Draco looked nervous, even as he pecked her cheek. 'Are you quite well, love?'

'Yes, fine. You?'

'All right. Up we get, now. Mother, do you need a hand?'

Narcissa had come mainly to support her daughter in law, and also because she was worried the Weasley boy would do something rash. She had faith in Hermione's sense-if nothing else, she wouldn't want the boy to come because Draco might maul him-but teenager males aren't usually known for common sense.

She also had mixed feelings about the baby. She was overjoyed on a purely personal level, but it worried her, too. Hermione seemed to be ignoring it as much as possible, and that couldn't be healthy. But then, it seemed to her that the children functioned by avoiding certain topics, so perhaps it made a degree of sense.

The other ladies met them there. This wing of the Ministry had been carefully cleared to avoid any veela unpleasantness, and so half a dozen of Britain's most influential ladies waited in well dressed quiet while the special committee convened by Shacklebolt took their sweet time in getting ready.

'Ladies, this way, please.' They followed Hermione, which was a pleasant surprise for her. It felt good, to be in charge of something again. Draco settled in the back of the chamber, eyes fixed on his wife, and hoped the presence of an active veela might dissuade any potential naysayers. If his darling thought the laws were archaic, then the Ministry had best pay attention, was all.

Hermione and the other ladies settled themselves behind the table which had been set out for them. Kingsley smiled at his older sister, who'd always been determined, and she smiled back. Bilquis loved her brother very much, and it meant the world to her that he'd taken her seriously in this.

'Well, Madam Malfoy-Madam Draco Malfoy, I mean-we've read work with great interest. Would you care to explain your position to the assembled?'

Hermione did.'...and because women are human beings, and we feel it's time the government took notice of that by extending equal protection to us under the law.'

Shaklebolt was nodding. 'Well, Madam Malfoy, you've clearly prepared very thoroughly for this.'

It was a little anti-climatic, truth be told. The committee mainly nodded and whispered amongst themselves, which was nerve wracking to say the least.

'Motion to bring this issue before the Wizengamot in open session?'

The result was seven ayes, two nays and one abstain (the Minister, obviously, sat this one out).

'Done. Let it be known that Madam Draco Malfoy, Madam Lucius Malfoy, Madam Hermann Dinglebolt, Madam Steerforth Rochfort, Madam Vincent Crabbe Sr. and Madam Alphonsus Bulstrode will appear to plead their case on the floor during the next administration session, pending open debates and a vote during the final session. Adjourned.'

Hermione almost couldn't believe her good luck. But, seeing as Fate as parcelled her so much, she decided to try a little further. 'Your Wisdom?'

'Yes, Madam Malfoy?'

'I'd appreciate being called by my own name in the official record. I can't speak for my companions, but please list me as 'Hermione'.

The scribe's quill stopped. 'Most unusual, your Wisdom.'

'Your Wisdom, we've just spent half an hour discussing the personhood of witches. Isn't it a bit ironic my remarks on record under my husband's name?'

Eudamia Dinglebolt nodded. 'Quite so' she said at almost normal volume, having let the elf use the hearing on her for a change. 'My Hermann's been dead for almost twenty years. He didn't have a thing to do with it, rest his bones.'

'Nor did my Steerforth' said Bilquis, whose current husband was even older than Eudamia and content to let her do as she liked, so long as he could hold her hand sometimes.

Madam Bulstrode looked thoughtful. 'My Alphie's all in favour, your Wisdom. Couldn't you put my name down and his in parenthesis?'

Narcissa squeezed Hermione's shoulder. 'And mine as well, please. Lucius is most supportive of Hermione and I both.'

The scribe looked helplessly at the Minister and the assembled members of the Wizengamot. 'Please, gentlemen?'

Draco stood in the back. 'I, for one, insist. My wife wrote the refutation, and she ought to get credit for what's in it.' He trusted the other gentlemen would back him in this, and if they didn't, he'd have some words with them, to say the least.

The scribe gave in with a disgusted grunt. 'All right, all right.' He did as he'd been asked, and the ladies rose gracefully, thanked the assembled, and left in a group, accompanied by Draco.

'You must all come to celebrate at my house' suggested Eudamia, rather louder than necessary, given that her charm was wearing off. 'My elf makes a fine galantine of calf's tongue.'

Hermione flicked her eyes to the rest of her party, both of whom nodded. 'We'd be delighted, Eudamia.'

Olive Crabbe, who hadn't been invited anywhere in years, looked as though she was going to cry, but only for a moment. 'That sounds wonderful.'

The others eagerly accepted, and Draco, who felt a hen party coming on, nevertheless feigned pleasure for his wife's sake. If nothing else, Madam Dinglebolt might have some interesting books or pictures or something.

All of them planned to meet at Dinglebolt House in Leeds. As the Malfoy carriage took off, Hermione nestled under the lap robes, almost too happy to talk. Draco leant over. 'Satisfied, love?'

In answer, she slid a hand beneath the robes and squeezed his. Draco beamed and squeezed back.