Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

OOOOOOMFG. I didn't expect that to take so damn long. Apologies, but the good news is... It's finished! Again! But longer! I'll be posting until it's done. If you want to know what the holdup was, here's the short version: first I tried to extend two chapters into five, and hated the writing. So I deleted it. Then I rewrote the entire ending, and hated it, so I deleted it. Then I did that another two times, nearly set a chapter on fire, had a temper tantrum in my living room, had a heart-to-heart with my dog, rewrote it a final time, and now I like it again. Being self-critical has its drawbacks, but at least you're getting something I'm proud of. My dog approves, too. I hope you enjoy it.

Somewhat unrelated: I've started a blog! The link is on my profile. I'm new to Tumblr, so please come say hi. So far it looks like the inside of my brain, and by that I don't mean mushy and full of bodily fluid. I mean I spend most of my time thinking about tattoos, sex, books, music, and fan fiction. The blog mirrors that. I'll start writing there a bit too... About life, sex, books... Okay, you get the picture. I'm also happy to answer questions to just about anything, advice included. Oh, except math. If you ask me about math, I will write you a post about cunnilingus. I'm waaay more into that. Capiche? MISSED YOU GUYS.

If I named chapters, I would name this: Someone forgot to tell the Malfoys.

Narcissa glared at the vial sitting in front of her.

Rodolphus's memories were sealed up and ready to go, complete with an explanatory note to Ron Weasley. Telling him the truth of his sister, telling him that the proof was in the vial, if he decided to open it. Telling him why she was doing this in the first place: that one, he deserved to know what really happened, and two, it was only fair for him to get some respite since he had lost so much recently, Hermione's heart included.

Providing the girl came back, anyway.

Everything was in place, written and prepared meticulously, and still Narcissa hesitated. There was no doubt that it was the right thing to do, but it opened the door for things to go badly wrong.

The fact that Ron had been acting under the influence of a powerful potion complicated things. It was possible, even likely, that he would not have behaved in the same way without it. Would he and Hermione still be together if it weren't for the potion? Perhaps. Even though Hermione was destined for Draco, she might not have found him until years later. She might have stayed with Ron longer, married him even, before the trait pulled her away.

That wasn't even the most confusing part. In her own case, Narcissa knew that once the trait kicked in, she had tunnel vision. Nobody else could compare with Lucius, and she wouldn't even entertain the suggestion. However, as she was learning, she and Hermione had some marked differences. The girl had already demonstrated an unheard of amount of strength and stubbornness in fighting the trait. The fact that she had managed to stay away from Draco as long as she had was proof of that. The question was, given this information, given all of these details, would she be tempted to give Ron a second chance?

"I bloody well hope not," Narcissa muttered under her breath. Trouble was, she couldn't really be sure. Hermione was bonded to Draco, but she had somehow retained enough free will to make Narcissa worry. Fate meant something else entirely when dealing with this ferocious brand of Gryffindor. It wasn't a certainty as much as it was an explosion. She might try things with Ron just to test the waters. Now that was worrisome.

Narcissa sighed and fidgeted with the vial. Other than the satisfaction of watching Rodolphus get ripped limb from limb, it had been a bit of a stressful week. There was this whole situation with the Weasley boy, of course, and Hermione's disappearance… But she was also starting to wonder what was taking her husband so damn long to reach the girl's parents. His gesture of extreme goodwill might tip the scales in their favour if Hermione was still uncertain about the family. Really, they needed every advantage they could get.

She knew that he had found a way to get to Australia simply because she had read the report in The Prophet. It was a small article, hidden under more inflammatory gossip, but the details had caught her eye. The Ministry office that regulates and grants international portkeys had been raided not even a week prior. Nobody could recall a scrap of useful information, of course, which made Narcissa positive that Lucius was behind it. He was exceptionally skilled at memory alteration, and besides, the stunt had his name written all over it.

But that meant he had been gone a while now, and she was admittedly a bit concerned. Lucius should be able to locate two Muggles and bring them back safely with his eyes closed. However, the fact that the Muggles in question were armed, missing pieces of their memories and were blood related to Hermione Granger made her wonder if there was perhaps a fairly large margin of error that they hadn't really assessed in advance.

Hopefully everything was fine. Hopefully his jaw was still intact whenever he chose to return. She was quite fond of his face in general. She wanted it just as it always was: handsome, scheming, and in one piece.

In the meantime, she continued to glare at the vial of memories, not liking her choices either way. Could she just not send them? Let the boy continue to think Lucius was behind his sister's death, and deal with his aggression as the years went on? Let Hermione completely fall for Draco before rocking the boat? It wasn't the right thing to do, but it was tempting. Giving Hermione the chance to sit down with a new and improved Ron seemed like an invitation for disaster, not to mention Draco's reaction.

Just when she was debating whether or not to send the stupid vial, damn the consequences, or put it off a little longer and make a nice pot of tea, Narcissa's senses tingled.

Lucius. He was home.

Vial in hand, she stood up abruptly and rushed out of the room to meet him. She was only halfway down the long staircase before she saw the huge front doors start to open. Lucius walked through, beaming tiredly as he saw her coming to greet him.

With relief, she saw that his face was exactly the same as when he left.

"Hello darling," he said before giving her an affectionate kiss. "I apologize for the delay."

"Apology accepted," she said, smiling happily. "I must admit, I was actually starting to worry. How did everything go?"

"Just fine," he said. "It took me a little longer to find them than I anticipated, as you are probably aware. Hermione had cast a rather strong Discombobulous charm on them that stuck quite well over the years. Once I clued in, it was much easier to locate them without becoming instantly confused."

"Clever girl," Narcissa nodded.

"Yes, clever girl, and clever parents, I must admit. Suspicious of everyone, understandably, but once I explained myself, they stopped waving the rifle around."

"You didn't disarm them?" she said, amused.

"I needed them to trust me," he shrugged. "It was worth the risk, and it paid off. They let me reverse the remains of the memory charm over a nice cup of tea. Told them about Draco. Discussed Muggle weapons for a while. A pleasant conversation."

"How lovely," said Narcissa. "But Lucius, did they not come back with you? I had expected to see them here."

"They are closing up the business and taking some sort of Muggle transit home. Something with wings."

"You mean... A dragon?" Narcissa asked, confused.

"Perhaps," said Lucius, thoughtfully. "But I think it was metal."

"A metal dragon?" Narcissa said, scrunching up her nose. "Muggles are so odd."

"Quite. At any rate, they will be back in a few days, and are greatly looking forward to seeing their daughter again, as you can imagine."

"If she ever comes back," said Narcissa, grimly.

"She still hasn't returned?" he said, looking startled. "I would have expected her by now."

Narcissa shook her head. "I haven't heard a peep from Draco. He refuses to speak to anyone but Blaise, so I've been checking in with him here and there. No news as of this morning. I'll try again tomorrow."

"But both Hermione and Draco must be absolute wrecks from being separated. She's continuing this willingly?"

"I'm afraid she's exceptionally strong willed," Narcissa said. "It's a bit worrisome."

"That is a problem," Lucius said, rubbing his chin. His eyes rested on her hand, which held the vial, and his brow furrowed. "What's this?" he asked, lifting her hand and peering at the glass.

"Rodolphus's memories," she said, calmly.

Just as she expected, his expression darkened dramatically.

"He escaped?"

She nodded.

"Are you hurt?"

She snorted. "Please. I can hear that man coming a mile away. He's louder than the Hogwarts Express."

"Imbecile," Lucius sneered. "I'm amazed he managed to get out of that. I was so sure it would ruin him. I'll have to be more careful in the future."

"You destroyed his mind, if it's any consolation," she said. "It was a right mess in there, although I managed to find out about the Weasley boy when I was poking around. Figures that Rodolphus would be behind something so cowardly."

"He was a poor excuse for a man. And where is his body?" He clearly didn't doubt for a second that Narcissa had taken care of the intruder with the skill of any Malfoy matriarch.

"Inside Queenie," she smiled.

"Excellent," he smiled back.

"While we're on the topic of Rodolphus and his memories, I need your opinion on a small complication I'm wrestling with."

"What sort of a complication?"

"It involves Hermione, of course," she said, linking arms with him as they walked back up to the study. "You see, I had planned on sending the vial to the Weasley boy to set things straight."

"Smart. Let him grieve properly, and take the attention off us. Be honourable and all that. And I suppose it's a small consolation prize considering that he'll be losing the girl."

"Exactly. Except that I'm worried about the chain of events following his discovery of the truth. He will no doubt want to speak to Hermione whenever she gets back to explain himself."

Lucius grimaced, understanding her concerns. "And you feel that because he may not have been responsible for his actions, she'll be open to meeting with him."

"Yes," nodded Narcissa. "Perhaps under more predictable circumstances, I wouldn't fret. After I bonded with you, I had no interest in any other man. But while I'm certain she is affected by the trait, she's obviously still very…"

"Independent?" Lucius said.

"Precisely," Narcissa said. "Lucius... You don't suppose she'd consider giving him another chance, do you?"

Lucius stopped in his tracks, and sighed. "Giving her unusual stubbornness, I guess I can't say for sure. But even if it was temporary, it would destroy Draco."

Narcissa nodded, the strain of the past week showing on her face as she lowered her eyes. "Honestly, I'm worried. My intuition just doesn't work around her. She's just so different. So far I've managed to misjudge everything. I thought this was going to be so straightforward, and it's been a complete disaster. Who's to say what will happen?"

"It's true that she is unlike any Malfoy I've ever heard of, although given the nature of the trait, perhaps that's the point."

It was a simple statement, but it made something click in Narcissa's mind.

"Lucius... I just had a strange thought," said Narcissa, frowning. "The trait is supposed to come out when the family needs something. Given how different Hermione is from us, and from just about everyone else the trait had affected... Do you suppose she's meant to make us... Better?"

Lucius considered her statement. "I don't understand. How could we possibly be better than we already are?"

"Maybe better is the wrong word. What I mean to say is... More... Empathetic. Think about it. She's changing, as expected, but so are we. Before she came into our lives, I'm not sure I would have taken those memories from Rodolphus without hesitation the way I did."

"And I probably would never have considered traveling halfway around the world to find two missing Muggles," Lucius admitted.

"Even Draco has become a better man in the short time they've been acquainted."

They both looked at the vial in Narcissa's hand.

"I was considering perhaps not sending it to the Weasley boy," Narcissa said, quietly. "Maybe a few years ago I could have done just that, but now I don't think I could go through with it. He deserves to know. He lost his sister."

"And Hermione would never forgive us if she found out we held back the information," Lucius agreed. "It would cement all her fears about us."

"That settles it then. I'll deliver the vial tonight, and I'll send a note to Draco warning him to be ready for the Weasley boy to start coming around. You can add to it if you want. Hopefully he actually reads it. She can sort things out when she returns, but Draco will definitely need a heads up so he doesn't murder Ron without all the information."

"And if he murders Ron even after getting all the information?"

She blinked. "I guess that would be... Bad? And we should try and avoid such a thing from happening?"

Lucius nodded, proudly. "We are becoming more empathetic!"

Narcissa opened up the note and pulled out a quill. "I'll just make some additions to the note, and we will send it off to Trebax. He should get it quickly - Blaise said he hasn't left the office all week."

Draco practically kicked down Hermione's door before he remembered that he only needed to turn the handle. It swung open, and they both stumbled in, dishevelled and red-faced, their clothing askew.

They had lasted for exactly twenty-four minutes inside that Muggle movie theatre before Hermione grabbed him by the collar and demanded to be taken somewhere with a bed. Draco was not about to argue. Her place was slightly more furnished than his, so here they were, already tripping over their own feet to get to the bedroom.

Clearly, having a quiet first date was not in the cards.

Keeping their hands off one another on the way to the theatre was colossally difficult, but Christ Draco tried. He knew he couldn't afford to fuck anything up and briefly considered casting some sort of charm to keep his fingers away from her skin. The trouble was that she was just so damn responsive - every kiss was met with a deeper kiss. Every caress met with a groan or a sigh. When he didn't touch her for a moment, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, or her waist, or her face. She needed him as much as he needed her, and the knowledge set him on fire. He was so turned on my the time they lined up for tickets that he hadn't the faintest idea what film they had paid to see.

It only got worse once they were inside. Hermione pointed him towards the back row, which was empty, along with most of the theatre.

"Must be a shite picture," he said, trying to joke as he followed her closely, noting the sway of her hips and the bounce of her newly-streaked hair. Bollocks, but she was gorgeous. "Nobody's here."

"I don't care about the picture," she whispered before pulling him down into the seats and proceeded to snog him so hard he was briefly worried his cock might strain right through his slacks. "It's a sequel to something that wasn't entertaining the first time around. Why do you think I chose it?"

His response was muffled against her throat.

Their movements quickly became more frantic, and as the adverts began and the lights dimmed, he began rubbing the heated spot in between her legs, wishing her jeans would vanish so he could slide his fingers inside. She writhed under his touch, responding by gripping the length of his cock as it pressed against the fabric of his pants. The curve of her breasts brushing his arms and chest made him long to tear her shirt right off, fuck anyone who noticed. He needed those tits in his mouth, and soon.

"I feel like I should ask you if you want me to slow down," he gasped as she flicked her thumb over the head of his dick, the cotton barrier not seeming to affect his sensitivity in the least.

"No," she said, sliding her tongue into his mouth to shut him up.

He let her continue for a while, and then pulled away, panting. "Hermione, I'm not sure I can make do with this... Touching... For however long this Muggle picture thing is going to last. These things are what... Two hours?"

"Well then get me to a bed," she said. "Now."

"Yes ma'am," he said, hoarsely.

He had never apparated with such urgency before. The trip up the lift was a blur, but now that he was in her flat, everything was beautifully clear. This was really going to happen, and it was going to happen with the speed of a train about to go off the rails. They were too wound up for something sweet and slow, and for some reason, that seemed just right.

He threw her down on the bed, quickly dropping his pants as she struggled to pull her jeans off. Her shirt had disappeared somewhere along the way, and her breasts were tucked into a pretty white lace bra.

He planned to remove that bra with his teeth.

She tugged at his shirt until he pulled it over his head, leaving them both panting and throbbing with need, he clad only in his boxers, her in her knickers and her bra.

Oh God, he couldn't even believe this was real. All week, he had been living a nightmare... And now? He was ready to slide off her knickers and lick every drop of arousal off her perfect pussy.

Yes.

Hermione began to pull at his waistband when Draco had a sudden, desperate thought.

"Wait!"

She pulled back, surprised. "What?"

"You said you wanted to pace this," he said, straining to keep himself in check. "I said I would respect that."

"I meant emotionally! I meant that we needed time to ease into being together!"

"How does that not apply here?" he said, sorely pissed off that he had enough of a conscience to be saying this at all. "Hermione, I wasn't kidding. You are everything to me. I don't want to fuck this up, or scare you away, or move too fast. I mean, I do, of course, but I don't. Am I... Am I even making sense? There's not a lot of blood left in my head."

"You are making sense," she said. "And I appreciate the thought. But Draco... I want this. So long as I'm not going to be locked inside Malfoy Manor tomorrow and forcibly married before I'm ready, this isn't going to frighten me away. I'm a big girl. Everything else can go slow. This doesn't have to."

His breaths were ragged and quick, echoing off the walls as he searched her face with his eyes. She seemed to be serious. Could he risk it? If she ran away again, he'd fall to fucking pieces.

"Please," she said, softly. "This feels right."

He needed no more encouragement than that.

Leaning in to kiss her, letting the reality of what they were about to do wash over him, he murmured, "Okay. Whatever you say."

"Correct answer," she said, reaching back to undo her bra and letting it fall off her body. He nearly finished right there at the sight of her breasts. Pale and gorgeous with tight pink nipples, practically calling for his mouth.

As if on cue, his mouth dropped open.

She blushed and made a move to pull at his boxers, but he brushed her hand away. "I'm not done yet," he said. Oh, but it was hard to take this slowly. He wanted to jump her right there, bury himself inside of her so deeply that he forgot the horrible emptiness that had haunted him all week. Still, he coached himself silently as he pulled down her knickers, his pulse speeding up considerably when she spread her legs for him and he saw the sliver of bright pink just below the triangle of soft hair.

The rest happened like clockwork. He climbed over her as she pushed his boxers down to his knees with her feet. There was no positioning needed - they were perfectly aligned - wet and taut and searing hot. The smallest thrust of his hips, and he was inside of her, the heavenly feeling of her walls tightening around his cock amplified by her cry of pleasure. Hearing her vocalize so loudly made turned something primal on inside of him, and he began moving in and out of her, guttural gasps and groans being pulled from his throat. He sped up, and she cried louder. He slowed down, and she whimpered. He pulled out, flipped her over and fucked her on her hands and knees, hard and rough, nearly losing it at the sight of her arse smacking into his body with every thrust. She grabbed the headboard for support, lifting her torso and freeing up room for him to fondle her breasts as he pumped into her.

"Gods," he managed to murmur before his brain checked out. She was getting louder, crying and gasping and occasionally just shouting "yes!" to the room, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the bed. The headboard was slamming repeatedly against the wall. Bang bang bang bang. The plaster was crumbling under the attack. Dust formed a cloud around the craters.

Neither of them cared.

His hand left her chest and travelled down between her legs, where he could feel his cock entering her. It was a surreal sensation, and he let his eyes flutter shut, immersing himself in the moment. "Holy fuck," he whispered, running his fingers over her folds, her slippery centre, and then back up to her clit, where he rubbed tiny circles with the pads of his fingers. Enough to make her lose her mind, but not so much that she lost the finesse of each stroke. Just the right amount of pressure to counteract that pounding that was taking place south of her clit. Just enough to make her wail.

And she did.

He sped up his movements, pistoning in and out of her like a machine. Her name slid out of his lips.

That did it. One sharp cry as he continued to finger her clit, and then a sob, and then an explosion as her body went rigid.

Her voice disappeared as the feeling rippled through her, and knowing how close he was, he thrust into her three more times before emptying himself, shuddering with an orgasm that seemed to go on forever.

They stayed like that for several moments, catching their breath, he still inside her and she still on her knees, clutching the headboard.

His fingers were soaking wet.

Her legs were shaking.

Eventually, he heard her swallow and then lick her lips, taking a deep breath.

"Again?" she said.