Author's Note: I'm so sorry once more for the massive delay in posting. But I've finally got my laptop back and Microsoft Office reinstalled. Much of this was delayed by me getting ill, which is never fun at any time, even less fun when you are pregnant and cannot take any medication.

The bad news is that I lost a couple of chapters for this story. That means there might be a little gap whilst I get them rewritten. I'm hoping this won't take too long as at least I know the outline. It's just frustrating having to get them right again!

Anyway, enough rambling and on to the chapter.

Scandal!

Draco whistled as he made his way through the garden, his broomstick slung over his right shoulder. He'd followed his heart this morning and made the most of the beautiful May morning to go for a ride rather than be sitting down at his desk and ploughing his way through business documents. His father was right; life was too short and if he wasn't careful, he'd end up spending his time doing nothing but work. Besides, he'd decided it was time to take on a Personal Assistant to take over the organisation of his diary. This would free up much valuable living time.

He cheerfully jogged his way across the vast Malfoy manicured formal lawn. He was late for lunch and his father wasn't going to be happy. Sunday lunch was sacrosanct in Lucius' world and no one was allowed to play truant. To make this lunch even more important, this would be the first one without Astoria in seven long years. Draco was looking forward to how much more relaxed everyone was going to be.

He took in his father's rigid form, as well as his mother's comforting hand on his shoulder, as he entered through the open French windows.

"Come on, Dad! It's not that bad. I can't be more than five minutes late."

And then he stopped. There was no answering snarl from his father or a reassuring look from his mother. Instead, Lucius keeled over, causing the crockery on the table to rattle, before he slumped to the floor where he began to convulse violently.

His mother cast a frantic look behind her at him. "Don't just stand there!" she yelled. "Get a Healer over here now!"

And with that panicked plea, Draco stumbled to the door, holding onto the frame for a brief moment, looking back at his still convulsing father before sprinting into his study and placing an emergency Floo call to St. Mungo's.

It was less than a minute later when two Healers rushed through the Floo connection.

"He's through this way," he said rapidly, rushing them back into the informal dining room where his mother had moved his father away from any objects on the carpet and was cushioning his head.

"Let us take over, ma'am," one of the Healers said, taking her place by his father's head whilst the other one started to time the convulsions.

His mother stood next to him, looking helpless and clutching his hand tightly.

Once the convulsions had stopped, Lucius was put in the recovery position.

"We'll give him some time to recover before assessing whether he needs to be admitted into the hospital," a Healer said to the bewildered pair. "In the meantime, would you be able to tell me if anything in particular triggered this attack. We're currently logging them all to try to define a pattern."

"He received some shocking news. It stunned him for a while, but then he went rigid, fell to the floor and started to convulse," Narcissa said.

Draco looked at his mother in surprise. It would have to be something monumentally big to cause this much of a reaction in his father, who was usually so calm and collected. The Healer just nodded and jotted this down before starting a quiet consultation with his partner that went on for a good five minutes.

The two conscious Malfoys could do nothing but watch. Draco could feel his mother still shaking and he was too numb to comprehend much. The seriousness of his father's illness was driven home forcefully by this seizure and it reminded him all too keenly that a cure had not been found and Lucius could die at any moment.

Finally, the consultation ended and the Healers decided to take his father to the hospital. Apparently, Lucius' heartbeat remained too erratic for them to be comfortable with him staying in the Manor. They wanted to bring him in for observation.

"Give us half an hour to have him settled, Mrs. Malfoy, and then you can come and visit."

Draco lifted the wards to allow them to Apparate Lucius to St. Mungo's.

After putting the wards back in place, he turned to his mother. "Okay, tell me what happened."

She was sitting slumped in the chair Lucius usually sat in and gestured wearily to a magazine in front of her. He grabbed the magazine and stared down at it for a long while, seemingly unable to comprehend what was on the front cover.

"That bitch!" he swore.

"'Potter's Princess Caught Out with Married Malfoy,'" Ron said, reading the offensive headline out loud.

The silence in the usually bustling kitchen was deafening, made even worse for Hermione by the fact that the headline read out by Ron was ringing in her ears. Her eyes glazed over as she took in the photo adorning the front cover of Witch Weekly. It had obviously been taken during her meeting with Malfoy last Wednesday but had been taken from an angle to make them look intimate with each other. Her body was leaning across the table whilst she looked down. The drinks obscured their hands but it did look as if they were holding hands. What made the whole picture worse was the intense way Malfoy was staring at her. It could be construed as a burning, passionate look, rather than him intently listening to her agreement that he could have contact with their child. Oh, Merlin! she thought. The baby is going to be called a love child.

"What is this?" Harry asked, grabbing the magazine and flipping the pages open.

She looked over his shoulder and groaned when she saw more photos from their Wednesday chat, including one of her furtively looking around before she entered the coffee shop.

"This is absolute rubbish! Listen to this: 'Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy and his mistress, Muggle-born Hermione Granger, have been holding secret rendezvous in Muggle London to carry on an affair that one source said has been going on for years. Witch Weekly was privy to one such meeting this Wednesday when we followed a tip-off and saw the cheating couple in a café after work. As our exclusive photographs show, the passionate pair enjoyed coffee, intense looks, and plenty of hand-holding. His wife of seven years, Astoria, is said to be distraught at the revelations and has fled to the Greengrass family home.'"

Harry threw the magazine back down onto the table in disgust where it was snapped up by Ginny, whose face grew redder and redder the longer she looked through it. "It's that cow, Rita Skeeter," she said.

Hermione was pulled out of her stupor by the warm hand that landed heavily on her shoulder. She looked to her left and into the supportive face of Ron. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She opened her mouth to speak and frowned when nothing happened. She was so stunned that she was actually speechless. She could feel the tears starting to well up in her eyes and tried her hardest to blink them back. She was not going to give in and cry over this. It wasn't the first time Skeeter had printed lies about her and she doubted it would be the last. She looked down at her tightly interlaced hands before clearing her throat. "I don't know what to say."

"We'll sue them. What's that thing I've seen on programmes on your TV, Hermione? Libel. Yeah, that's it. We'll sue them for libel," Ron said angrily.

Hermione giggled then. It started off as a small sound before morphing into uncontrollable laughter. "S-s-sorry," she stuttered, wiping the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't work out if was she crying or laughing any more. It took many tissues and back-patting from her two best friends before she could stop. For once, the Weasley clan had just sat silently, allowing her the time to react to this horror story.

"Ron, you're an Auror. You know there's no such thing as libel or slander in the wizarding laws," Ginny said. "If there were, Skeeter would've been sued millions of times in the past."

"I'm pleased to see that you and Draco are getting on better," Luna said, lifting her head briefly from the magazine that had passed to her and looking at Hermione. "He looks much happier in these pictures than those times I've seen him with Astoria."

Everyone looked at Luna in amazement but nothing was said. They were all used to her interjecting with random, off-topic comments.

"Well, there should be," Ron said sulkily, ignoring his wife and replying to his sister's comment.

"What are you going to do?" Angelina, George's wife, asked Hermione.

"I don't know. I guess I need to speak to Malfoy and see if he has any idea of who could've done this. Someone has tipped Skeeter off to the fact that we're meeting but obviously put an entirely different spin on it. What a shame she registered as an Animagus so I can no longer hold that over her head."

"Do you think it was Bulstrode?" Ron asked. "After all, she did tell Malfoy about your appointment."

Hermione shook her head. "No. She's a good friend of Malfoy's and wouldn't want to pull his name through the mud like this."

There was a choking noise from Audrey, Percy's wife. "Sorry," she said. "It's just they've managed to write the most ridiculous article later on. Listen to this: 'Moralistic war heroine, Hermione Granger, has made a career out of lecturing the wizarding world on better treatment for magical creatures, house-elves most prominently. Now we find out how hypocritical Hermione really is. Apparently, wives do not fall under the category of needing to be treated with respect.' It continues on in the same vein."

Molly clucked disapprovingly before hastily rummaging through a kitchen drawer, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"What're you doing, Mum?" George asked.

"I'm not standing for this nonsense. I'm cancelling my subscription to that… that rag. How dare they print such disgusting lies?"

Hermione was warmed by this action, especially, as when she'd had her problems with Witch Weekly in the past, notably during the Triwizard Tournament, Molly had believed the magazine and had been frosty towards her until Harry had cleared it all up.

She smiled at Molly. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"We all know the truth, my dear, and are standing firmly behind you."

And the Weasley matriarch was right. Looking around the large kitchen table, all she saw was love and support. She knew that the rest of the magical community would not be so understanding and would be more than willing to believe the lies, but as long as she had a strong circle of friends, then she could cope with the censure she was bound to face.

The kitchen door opened and Arthur walked through, rubbing his hand wearily over his face. "Afternoon, Weasleys," he said tiredly.

"Here, Dad, come and sit down," Percy said, standing up from the chair Arthur usually inhabited.

Molly rushed around, getting her husband a cup of tea, summoning milk from the fridge and narrowly missing Percy's head as he moved to get a new seat.

"I thought you didn't have to go on raids anymore as its no longer part of your job description," Molly scolded her husband.

"There was a shortage in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. Wayne Hopkins' wife went into labour and you know no one knows that department like I do."

Molly just harrumphed but smoothed her husband's hair down affectionately. Hermione smiled at the easy interaction and looked around the table at all the Weasley children and their spouses. Molly and Arthur had set an amazing example of marital happiness to their children and it showed. Not a single Weasley had made an unhappy marriage – not even George, with the rather morbid choice to marry his dead twin's girlfriend.

She sighed and looked down, feeling lonelier than ever. It was hard not to feel the lack of not having a spouse when loved-up couples continually surrounded you. It was a shame Charlie wasn't present today. At least she wouldn't be the only single person at the table if he were. Charlie was married to his work, much in the same way Hermione was. The only difference was that Charlie had no desire to marry and have a family. Molly was forever nagging him that it was time to settle down but Charlie always joked that no woman could give him as much love as his dragons did.

Revived by a slurp of tea, Arthur looked around the table. "So, has the Weasley Sunday lunch thrown up any scandal or controversy I should know about?"

It was the kind of teasing comment Arthur would make, a gentle dig at the fact that there was always some drama happening amongst his family, but it was unfortunate that he chose those particular words today. A deathly silence fell over the table. The Weasley patriarch looked around, confused by this strange occurrence.

"What did I say?" he asked.

All eyes slid towards Hermione, who grimaced and held her hand out. Fleur passed the offending magazine to her and she held it up for Arthur to see.

"I'm front page news," she said in an off-hand manner that hid the pain caused by looking at the lurid cover of the magazine.

Arthur blinked several times rapidly, as if he didn't trust his eyes whilst reading the hateful articles. He then frowned. "I had to take Woodfield to St. Mungo's. He was attacked by the cursed nutcrackers "

Every male around the table winced and shifted uncomfortably in their seat.

" we were sent to collect. When I was there, I saw Lucius Malfoy being rushed in. He didn't look conscious and was quickly surrounded by Healers. I did ask if it was something the Ministry needed to help with. You know the Malfoys have a lot of enemies still but I was assured that it was nothing like that. Now, I can see what might have caused it."

"Great," Hermione muttered. All she could think of was the field day the gossips would have if Lucius died because of this. Because of her. The Mudblood stain on his family.

Draco was numb as he made his way through St. Mungo's, hand-in-hand with his mother. He knew that beneath the deadened surface of his emotions, there was a mass of rage, anger, and anxiety swirling. He just hoped that he was in the privacy of the Manor when his feelings finally erupted.

He felt Narcissa stumble and he steadied her. She looked up at him with fear-filled eyes causing him to feel helpless. How could he reassure her that everything was going to be okay when he was scared stiff that they would get there and Lucius would be dead? Merlin! What would he do if his father were dead? He couldn't cope with this mess without Lucius' guiding hand. His father had always been there for him. The one time he hadn't, Draco had managed to get roped into becoming a Death Eater. Despite popular opinion, there was a deep and abiding bond between them. Yes, his father had had unrealistic expectations. Yes, he'd been disappointed that Draco had finished behind Granger in exams and Potter on the Quidditch pitch. But he'd always loved him, and Draco had always felt loved.

His eyes narrowed as he thought once more of Astoria. There was no doubt in his mind that she was behind the story. She'd been far too yielding and cheerful regarding the divorce. Only one thing made Astoria that happy, and that was getting her way. She might not be a Malfoy wife anymore, but she'd made sure that she'd gotten her revenge. And dragged their names through the mud in the process.

They finally made it up to the fourth-floor, where those suffering from spell damage were housed. They were stopped by a Healer before they went on to the ward where Lucius was.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm Holly Ashfield, the Head Healer for this department. I've been dealing with your husband's case from the beginning. Now, I'd like to reassure you that he's fine. He's just woken up and is a little groggy but apart from that, there should be no lasting effects from today's attack."

Draco squeezed his mother's hand, which was still shaking in his hold.

"Does he remember anything?" Narcissa asked.

"Oh yes! You don't need to worry. His memory isn't impaired in any way. It never has been with this particular illness."

He felt rather than heard his mother's massive sigh and realised that with the Healer's reassurances, some tension went out of his own shoulders. The Healer pushed the door of the ward open.

"He's in Bed 23, Bay 9," she informed them.

They went through the door, his mother moving a lot more freely now than the stiff walk she'd had previously.

They found the bay easily enough, and his father was currently the only occupant out of the six beds located there. Draco's breath hitched as he saw his father. The vulnerability of Lucius' condition was brought home by the fact that his hair was out of place: tangled and rough rather than the long, smooth mane Draco had always seen. His eyes were dulled and bloodshot, probably due to the potions he'd taken, but the ordeal of the convulsions couldn't have helped.

Narcissa let out a sob and his father held out a hand for her to take. She ran over and clutched it, a few tears escaping down her face.

"Hey! What's this?" Lucius asked.

His mother shook her head and swallowed a few times, obviously trying to regain some composure. She gave a watery chuckle. "You gave us quite a scare," she said.

"I know," he replied, stroking her cheek softly. "But I'm fine, and I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Narcissa snuggled into his palm, closing her eyes at the sheer pleasure of his touch.

Draco couldn't help but feel out of place as he watched the tender scene between his parents. This was what he wanted. Not a broken marriage with a cold-hearted woman or a child conceived in a test tube. He wanted love and affection and all the things that came with it. Oh, he wasn't naïve. He'd heard his parents' fights now and again. They had been particularly prevalent after the war with the stress of trying to rebuild everything. But they never lasted long and, if anything, his parents' marriage seemed to come out stronger after each one. There was no bitterness that tainted their partnership, slowly turning it sour.

"Son?"

Draco looked up and saw his father beckoning him over with his spare hand. He smiled at him and moved to the other side of the bed, gently clasping his shoulder.

"Don't do that to us again, Dad."

"I'll try my hardest but I can't guarantee it won't happen again."

The atmosphere turned sober as the three of them digested this news. This was the reality of Lucius' illness and it was only likely to get worse. It was slowly killing him and unless a cure was found soon, then he would be gone for good.

"I'm still angry that you kept this from me. How on earth did you keep seizures like that a secret?" Narcissa asked.

"They've never come on like that before. I think it was the shock that triggered it more than anything. And I owe you an apology, Draco."

He looked at his father enquiringly.

"You warned me about Astoria. You said it had been too easy and I didn't listen."

Draco shrugged, not particularly happy to have been proved right. He'd rather Lucius continued to laugh at him for being paranoid and pessimistic. "I was hoping to be proved wrong," he replied.

"We all wish that was the case," Narcissa said before sighing and sinking into a visitor's chair.

"Have you spoken to the Granger girl?" Lucius asked.

Draco shot him a disbelieving look. "I've barely even looked at the magazine. I've been a bit distracted," he said pointedly.

"All right, I understand. My mind's a little slow right now."

The twinge of pain stabbed through him once more. His father was never slow. He was always trying to figure out the possible consequence to every scenario – not always successfully, as Astoria's stunt proved.

"Let's concentrate on getting you back to the Manor and then we'll worry about this," Narcissa said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Sounds like a good idea, Mother," he said with a smile in her direction.

He was pleased to note that she was regaining the delicate colour in her face. He hadn't liked seeing her so pale and drawn.

A Healer chose that moment to enter the room, bringing any mention of the previous conversation to a close. The Malfoys did not wash their dirty linen in public.

As he walked his way back through the lobby of St. Mungo's, Draco had to be blind to not notice the stares and whispers that were following him around. It wasn't anything new; he'd suffered similar treatment for a few years following the war. But it was an unwelcome reminder of how serious the situation now facing him and Granger was. Just when it seemed they had ironed out one set of differences, this had come to bludgeon them around the head. As if things couldn't have become messier than they already were.

He sighed and refused to give the reaction that his audience expected. His non-existent love life might be spread all over the tabloid press but it didn't mean he would break down and cause the scene they were all hoping for.

"Draco!" a female voice called across the reception.

He turned and saw Millie jogging her way towards him.

"I need to talk to you," she said once she'd weaved her way through the staring bystanders.

"Come back to the Manor," he replied. "It'll be just us there."

"Where are your parents? And why are you here on a Sunday?" she asked.

"Long story," he murmured, aware that those closest to them where trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Millie clocked on to the fact that they were the centre of attention, and apart from a confused look at the interest they were attracting, she said nothing, just walking silently next to him over to the bank of fireplaces that housed the Floo Network.

Once they were ensconced in Draco's study, Millie gave into the questions that had been obviously plaguing her.

"What's going on, Draco? How come everyone was staring at us and why where you at St. Mungo's?"

He walked over to his desk and frowned as he saw the offending publication sitting on his blotter. Apparently, a house-elf had placed it there, probably thinking that they were being helpful. He flicked it open, briefly scouring its contents and ignoring Millie's impatient shuffling. The frown returned to his face before he slammed it shut and chucked it over to his friend. Her gasp as she caught it, turned it over, and saw the full glory of the headline, did nothing to soothe his bad temper.

"What the hell is this?" she asked.

"The article that put my father in St. Mungo's. It brought on a seizure."

"Seizure?"

Draco rubbed a hand over his eyes, remembering that he hadn't had the opportunity to speak to any of his friends about his father's condition. "My father's sick. He's been seeking treatment at St. Mungo's for a couple of years. They're not sure what the illness is. It's the main reason he wants this child with Granger so much."

She sent him a sympathy-filled look. "I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, me, too. We're still not sure if he's going to be cured or not."

Millie stared at him with wide eyes. "Wow, Draco, you really are having a tough year."

He snorted mirthlessly. That was an understatement.

His friend looked back down at the magazine before raising her head and looking at him once more. "Astoria?"

He nodded. "Most likely. I can't think of anyone else who'd want to do this. The only people I've told outside my family are you and Pansy, and I doubt any of Granger's friends would want to screw her over. That leaves one candidate and she's not exactly enamoured of the Malfoy family at the moment."

Millie was flicking through the offending magazine, her eyes growing wider and wider. "This is a real hatchet job."

"Well, they do say 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"

"And to think I was coming to inform you that Granger had pumped me for information at her last appointment."

"What?"

"She threatened to report me for telling you about her appointments and placing that Galleon on her if I didn't tell her what she wanted to know. You know how much I love my job, Draco."

He did and he didn't begrudge her saving it. "What did she want to know?"

"About you and Astoria."

"It doesn't matter now, anyway," he said, gesturing to the magazine.

"But will she know who's done this?"

Draco shrugged. "Probably not, but it's not as if I can keep it quiet. Thanks to my darling ex-wife, Granger and I are going to be under the public's scrutiny. Just wait until she starts showing."

Millie nodded in agreement before coming over and grabbing his hand. Sadness was all but radiating out of her eyes. That was one of the things he loved about Millicent Bulstrode. She had amazing empathy. Not many looked beyond her slightly butch appearance to the sensitive personality that existed underneath. She could be gruff in nature but she'd do anything for her friends.

"We'll stand with you, Draco. You know that, right? Me and Pans, we'll make sure we're shoulder to shoulder with you and Granger, if needs be."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I know you will, Millie. You're a friend in a million."

It wasn't until the next morning that his father returned from St. Mungo's. He could have come home the night before, but Healer Ashfield had wanted to keep him in to be on the safe side.

Draco went up to Lucius room, once he'd been settled. His father was looking much more like himself. His hair was neat, tied up with the usual black ribbon, and he was sitting up in his bed doing his best to ignore his fussing wife and house-elves.

"Draco!" he called, as his son walked in. "Just the person I wanted to see."

"What can I do, Father?"

"Go to the Ministry and fetch the Granger girl! We need to discuss our response to this outrage and she needs to be here."

AN: Yes, I decided that with Hermione's influence and Arthur's pleading, there would be a fridge installed at the Burrow.