A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

Nothing new to report here, except that it's freezing, and I'm deeply envious of those selkie robes Draco and Hermione are always snuggling into.

Had Crookshanks been asked whose cat he was, he would have been quite flummoxed. Well, had a human asked him, he would have snorted and walked off, as cats can't talk.

Had another cat asked him, in the subtle way cats have, he would have considered a long while before answering, tail swishing thoughtfully. His Girl's, of course, but really, Crookshanks ran the whole family.

Who but Crookshanks had spent sleeps making the bed robes smell just right, rolling on them to make sure his scent was deep into the furs? Who watched the humans and elves to see that they were safe from some other cat? Who scrubbed his smell into their absurd, hairless little necks before they went out, so everyone who counted (other cats, mainly) would know what a tough, ruthless tom protected them?

As it was, he was sniffing his Girl's belly. He knew, at some level, that she wasn't a Girl anymore, but a Woman like the one married to the Man with the weak thump-thump sound in his chest. Crookshanks had decided that, since he'd had her for years, he could call her his Girl for as long as he liked.

She smelt healthy, at least, and so did the kit inside her. Crookshanks poked her belly with a paw, wondering when her sides would bulge, and felt no lumps or bumps yet.

He moved onto the Male, sniffing him all over. There was something strange about this one, no two ways about it. He smelt feral, but just slightly, not like the Wolf Human who'd always been nice to Crookshanks. He pondered this a moment, decided it was beneath him, and nestled against the Male's chest, purring. It was very late, almost time for the Big Light in the Sky to come back.

Crookshanks' Girl moved. He stood up and watched her. She was jerking and making strange sounds. None of them were 'clever Crookshanks' or 'dinner' or 'brush' so Crookshanks knew they weren't directed at him. Something in her voice made his fur crackle a little, and he nimbly jumped the sleeping Male and stood beside her pillow, nuzzling her to wake her up.

Now the Male was doing it. He rolled, eyes opening, and engulfed her in his foolish human arms, making mewling sounds of which Crookshanks quite approved. The Girl groaned once and then laid still. The Male smelt like Scared. Had a predator got in somehow? Crookshanks reluctantly left his humans in the bed and went to check, determined to sniff it out and drive it off.

Hermione's eyes flickered open. 'Draco?'

'Shhh. What happened, precious?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Just a nightmare, Draco. Sorry I woke you.'

Draco's first impulse was a deluge of affection to drown out the memories of whatever she'd seen. He forced himself to fight it. Instead, he shook his head and said 'Don't be, love. Do you want to talk about it?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No. What time is it?'

Draco reached for his wand and spelled up the lights. 'Almost seven. Shall we try for another few hours of sleep, darling?'

Hermione shook her head again. 'I'm too nervous. Why don't you try?'

Draco kissed her neck lightly. 'I'd rather spend time with you. And no runes' he said before she suggested it, which made her smile.

'You don't know that's what I wanted to say.'

'Bollocks. You're predictable.' For some reason, that made Hermione laugh a little, and they spent a few minutes just relaxing together. 'What shall we do, then?'

'Mmm, how about a story? The baby's awake too.'

'How can you tell?'

'No Malfoy misses a chance to listen in on a conversation.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Honestly. Shall I tell one?' Draco nodded and Hermione launched into recitation of Sleeping Beauty that had Draco absolutely baffled.

'Why would they let fairies in to start with? Nasty creatures.'

'These aren't little fairies, Draco. This fairies are more like humans.'

'Then they're hags? Or perhaps vampires?'

'No, they're fairies.'

She got as far as the curse and he stopped her again. 'Well, that's a stupid curse. Some Dark witch this "fairy" is.'

'Draco, would you rather tell the story?'

'Not at all, love.' He laid back and listened to her voice, utterly relaxed, and enjoying the chance to press Hermione's buttons, savouring some gentle play now that tickle fights and carrying her round were right out. Hermione gave as good as she got, and finished in time for Crookshanks to come back in, having found nothing of note.

'And so they lived happily ever after, and the Prince never, never mocked the way the Princess told fairy stories. The end.'

'That story could use a bit of work, if you ask me. Perhaps a part where the Prince hexes those stupid fairies for being idiots.'

'Or a part where he accepts these stories were written for five year olds and stops being a pillock.'

'Hmph. Being a pillock is the family pastime.'

'I thought it was being denounced.'

'Dragon and the egg, my darling. What time do we need to be ready?'

'The meeting is at eleven, with a luncheon to follow.'

'And they know about the veela thing?'

Hermione nodded. 'No other men will be there, Draco. Except Father, if he comes.'

'Father will stay here, I'd think. It would be awkward for him to be there.' Draco himself didn't especially want to go, for something like that reason; he was afraid he'd meet someone he'd hurt during his year's tenure as his mad aunt's apprentice.

'Everything all right?'

'Yes, fine. What shall we do now?'

Hermione nibbled her lip. 'Draco? Do you dream about the War?'

Part of him was delighted she was opening up. Another part would have traded his wand arm for it to have been about anything but this. 'Yes, I do.'

' I dream about Greyback, sometimes. Living with him must have been truly terrible.'

Draco's eyes were remote. 'You've no idea.'

Hermione startled them both by giving him a hug. 'No, I don't, but I'm sorry it happened to you.'

Draco hugged her back. 'Was it Greyback tonight?'

'The other one. He made...inferences.'

If Draco hadn't thought the man dead, he would have hunted him down and hacked out his heart. As it was, he tensed, and Hermione went pale. 'I didn't mean to upset you.'

Draco forced himself to calm down. 'Of course you didn't. He didn't try to touch you?'

'He didn't have time.'

Hermione abruptly turned and drank some of the water from the cup she kept beside the bed. 'And it's all over now.'

'May I ask you something?'

She nodded, guardedly, and Draco touched her hand. 'What were you saying to Molly Weasley? I only ask because you looked upset.'

'I offered Ginny my wedding dress. The one I would've worn, I mean.'

Draco absorbed this quietly. 'Oh. That's really very generous of you, love.'

Hermione shrugged, unconsciously tipping her head up. 'One of us might as well get some use from it.' Then, quite surprising herself, a few tears ran down her cheeks and she dashed them away, almost angrily. 'Do you suppose I'm a hypocrite?'

He hadn't expected that, definitely. 'Sorry?'

'I feel that way, sometimes.'

'You mean because of what happened?'

Hermione nodded. 'Yes. I understand why it has to be this way, but that doesn't make it easier.'

Draco inhaled deeply. 'I think it's very brave that you're trying to make other people's lives better when you yourself have no...no...' he didn't want to say hope. As he watched, more tears came and Hermione raised her hand to wipe them away, until he reached up and did it for her.

'Please don't cry.' Draco tried to smile and couldn't. In the light, her eyes seemed very large, liquid, and he realised she was hurting deeply.

'I'm sorry. I think it's just nerves, or something. I'm normally not this silly.'

On her other side, Crookshanks rose on his hind legs and snuffled gently at his Girl's cheek, rubbing her with his smell. Hermione reached for him and pulled him into her arms, hugging him like a teddy bear.

Draco's first instinct was to tug her (well, them) into his lap. Instead, he rested a hand on her back and said very firmly 'I don't think it's a bit silly. You've every right.' Every right to what, exactly? Draco was a good deal more comfortable with hypocrisy than Hermione, but even he wasn't going to go quite that far.

Crookshanks sighed deeply, aware that this problem was beyond his feline purview, and that it somehow related to their sudden move to this Place. He relaxed into her arms and purred loudly, trying to soothe her as much as possible. He looked expectantly at the Male.

Your turn.

Draco decided he couldn't make thing worse, at this point, and so he did a surprising and rather unusual thing; he followed an impulse. 'It's unselfish. That's something I love about you.'

Hermione hugged the cat, startled. Crookshanks wriggled, feeling slightly squished, and then settled back against her, snorting approval of the Male. Not bad. Not perfect, but good enough.

'And that you try so hard to make everyone else round you feel comfortable, even when you aren't. And that you're always nice to the elves. And that you let me cuddle you before we sleep. And that face you make when you're waking up. And that you make me laugh.'

'I...'

'I'm not sorry we're married. But I am sorry you aren't happy.' There. Draco had cast his die and now he'd have to wait for the inevitable conclusion, whatever it was.

Hermione was too startled to say anything. She reached for her wand and spelled her slippers over. Rising without a word, she went into the seat of ease and closed the door behind herself.

'A fine muck I've made of things.'

You humans are good at that.

Draco blinked. 'Could almost swear...anyway, you orange fleabag, I'm a loss.'

Flattery will get you nowhere. But a belly rub might persuade me to help you.

Draco gently dug his fingers into the cat's dense undercoat as he flopped down on his back, massaging. The cat purred and murmured softly.

Hermione had gone into the seat of ease to buy herself a little time. She'd washed her hands and face twice now, and she came out unsure of what to do. This simultaneously felt like a sea change and like nothing at all, as though something had happened but she wasn't sure how to quantify it.

'Has Minky set your things out?'

Draco nodded. 'Yes. I'm wearing black. Don't want to clash with you or Mother.'

Hermione was fiddling with her wrapper. 'I'm not sure I was ready to hear all that.'

'It's true.'

'That doesn't make it easier.'

'No.' He rose as well, much to Crookshanks' disgust, and called Minky to bring hot water so he could shave. 'Unless you think I should grow facial hair. Perhaps fine side whiskers, or a bristling moustache?

'Draco...no.'

'It might look dashing. Like a pirate.' Hermione shook her head and sighed.

'What do you think, Crooks?'

Crookshanks sneezed to show his feelings on that matter and burrowed under the furs, determined to work on putting his fur on exactly the right places on the bed robes.

'I think that's a negative answer, Draco.'

Draco nodded. 'No vision, I'd call it.'

Leesy appeared, bowing low. She heartily approved of Madam's friends and their insistence on observing the traditional forms, and she'd decided to try and convince Madam to wear Madam Dingelbolt's fur lined band under her robes.

'Madam is wearing dark brown robes today? Maroon dress, matching shoes?'

'That sounds fine, Leesy.'

'Fur lined band?'

'Leesy...' Hermione tensed, shaking her head. 'I can't do this right now.'

Leesy began to shur softly, so softly Madam almost couldn't hear it. Hermione hadn't grown up with elves and didn't relax instinctively, as a Pureblood might. She sat down and began to undo her hair from the night braid Leesy had put it in.

Leesy took up the job, fingers flying. 'Madam is well?'

'Yes, Leesy. You?'

Leesy was used to Madam's peculiarities by now, but she'd never get over this particular one. 'Well, Madam.' She called for a maid to bring the hot water for Madam's bath, planning on how she would get her mistress to wear the warm band.

Hermione stripped and sat in the tub, relaxing as the hot water spilt across her shoulders and neck. 'Is it very cold, Leesy?'

'Very cold, Madam. Snowing, and there is being lots of wind.'

Hermione considered. 'Maybe the band would be a good idea, then, for the ride.' She hated how draughty and miserable the carriage could be, juddering them, suspension-less, across the sea and all the way to Hertfordshire.

Leesy's face lit up. 'Thank you, Madam!' She couldn't have been happier that Madam was acting sensibly. Hermione nodded distractedly. 'You're welcome.'

Crookshanks rose from the bed like an orange alligator and came to twine her ankles. 'Oh, Crooks, everything is so complicated.'

Crookshanks purred, wishing he could help. Shall I bring you something to cheer you up? Perhaps a fat mouse? His Girl still looked thoughtful, which made Crookshanks snuffle worriedly.

Perhaps I ought to wee in his shoes, just to be safe. Deferring this option for further study, he went to find the Man, to see if he could offer some insight.

The two of them watched the carriage rollick into the sky, flying through the air in dignified if rather shaky haste. Crookshanks was being carried in state, lounging on the Man's shoulder.

He tried to convey how strange the whole morning had been, but found the Man wasn't quite as fast on the uptake as Crookshanks had thought. He sighed, put his head down, and slept, deciding he'd worry about it later.

In Hertfordshire, Hermione and the other ladies sat round a table set on a modest dais. Draco was in the back of the room, smiling to make her feel confident, prepared to thoroughly maul (verbally, given the audience) anyone who might upset his wife. They'd been joined this time by Luna Lovegood and Milicent Bulstrode, which brought their number up to fifteen or so.

The room was dingy and cold, and the twenty women in the audience seemed to be politely tolerating them. Hermione had a horrible thought: had they invited her just because Augusta asked them to?

'If we are citizens, then we should have equal rights. This issue is not, at heart, about the right to control our own money or to be able to work if we wish; it's a struggle to be acknowledged as intelligent human beings in our own right. The other things are a symptom of that.'

'We women of Wizarding Britain are hostages to fortune. Most of us are lucky to have husbands who are kind and treat us well. Some of us are not. Even the most well intention contravention of our rights is an abuse. Not because it's meant to be, but because it denies us personhood.'

She went on in this vein a while, wondering if she was making an impression on the women listening to her. As Hermione talked, she found her conversations with Draco playing in her head.

'... decide where you go, whom you might see...no right to privacy...an account at Gringotts? Not anymore.'

Didn't they see how vital this was? How terribly it could go wrong, and at how little provocation? She'd had everything taken from her, everything, and it could happen to them just as quickly. Her status as a war hero hadn't protected her. Nothing had protected her.

'Does anyone here know who Harmonia Singer was?' A smattering of hands shot up. Hermione didn't give herself time to reflect on this; as unusual as this impulse was, she, like Draco, rode it.

'That could be any one of us tomorrow. The law would permit us to be blinded rather than let us be humans. It's not right! All that separates us from poor Harmonia is the good will of our husbands.'

A woman in the audience raised her hand. 'But don't you trust your husband? Mine wouldn't do a thing like that.'

Hermione gripped the edge of the table for a moment. 'Do I think my husband would take one of my eyes? Of course not. Do I think he should have that right, even if he never uses it? No.'

The woman who'd asked the question looked as though she was deep in thought. 'But if a woman is obedient, she wouldn't have anything to worry about.'

Hermione looked her directly in the eye. 'No? Tell Harmonia Singer that.'

The room was silent for a moment and then, as one, the women rose and applauded. Bilquis leant over Hermione's shoulder. 'I think you did it.'

'We did it.'

After the meeting (and a nice luncheon at Augusta's) the Malfoys climbed back in their carriage for the journey home. Draco helped settle his wife under the lap robes. Narcissa wisely feigned sleep so the children could talk.

'You were splendid.'

'I got lucky, was all.'

'Bollocks. I can't wait to watch you convince the Wizengamot of all this.'

'It might not be that easy.' Draco rolled his eyes and smoothed her hair gently. He'd mentally added this afternoon's meeting to his list of reasons.

'Try to be optimistic, darling.'

But of course, Hermione was right.