The hot water beat down on his back as he stood under the shower, eyes closed, his forehead rested against the cool tiles. It was quarter to six in the morning and so far he had been in this same position for fifteen minutes. Both he and Hermione had tossed and turned, neither getting much sleep after their argument in the early hours before finally rising. It was now Friday and Pansy had been missing a week. Hermione seemed hell bent on working herself to death and for his part, he was torn. Truth be told, he wanted to work just as much as Hermione, but he saw the effect that working so hard had on her and insisted on her taking breaks to eat and sleep and every time he found her working in the early hours it caused an argument. This is not how he pictured married life with her starting. His cock hardened at the thought of how he had actually pictured it, his physiology betraying him and he tried to ignore the throb of desire. With a grunt he gave in, grasping his length as he leaned his left forearm against the tiles. He heard the bathroom door open and his witch come in and relieve herself. Just as she was about to leave the bathroom, his hand reached out of the shower and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in suddenly. She gasped from shock at the action and the suddenness of the water that pounded down on her, saturating her clothes, her mouth fish-gaping as she hyperventilated.

"Draco," she rasped, angered by the action. "What the hell?"

He responded by shoving her roughly against the tiles, his lips crashing down onto hers forcefully as he pressed his length into her, signalling his want. Responding in kind, she bit his lip hard and watched as he took half a step back at her, his hand coming up to his mouth as she glared at him. Neither moved for a second as they sized each other up, before her anger gave way to arousal and the pair roughly grabbed at the other. He ripped her sodden clothing from her silky skin, depositing it unceremoniously outside the shower as the both licked, nipped and sucked, taking what they needed from each other. Her keening cries reverberated around the bathroom as he slipped two fingers between her slick folds, driving them into her hot core as his thumb found her clit. She moaned into his mouth as he slipped his tongue between her lips, massaging hers as he brought her deftly to her climax. He held her, shuddering, against the wall, stopping her from slipping down as her knees buckled. As the feeling subsided and her trembling ceased, he hitched her leg up around his waist, pushing into her, pinning her in place as he pounded her into oblivion, seeking his own much needed release. Biting down on her neck, she cried out as pain melted into pleasure. Cursing her name, he found his release as the bright white light flashed across his mind, followed by a moment of sheer clarity as images came forward from the darkest recesses of his mind. It was like looking into a penseive, as he watched the hooded figure stand over his sixteen year-old self who watched another kneeling in the centre of the pentacle. He grasped at Hermione's shoulders as the two of them crumpled into a heap on the floor of the shower, spent and gasping for breath. Willing himself to stay with the vision, the images flashed to the Parkinson Manor and then a villa in Southern France, flashing over an ancient parchment before dissolving into the image of Hermione looking up at him. She cupped his cheek with her hand, concern in her hazel orbs.

"Draco?" she whispered as he stared at her, his grey eyes wide with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

Blinking back at her, he sensed her confusion.

"You're a million miles away," she whispered, her thumb caressing his cheek.

Snapping out of his reverie he grasped her wrist. "More like a million years away," he told her, his caliginous tone sending a chill down her spine, reminding her of a former version of himself. Searching his eyes, she watched as his features softened, as if sensing her unease. Reaching forward, he cupped her neck, pulling her in for a soft kiss, his tongue sliding languorously across her lip as she moaned. Breaking away, he smiled before helping her up from the base of the shower, reaching for her soap and pouring some into his hands, and then massaging it into her skin. Turning away from him so he could lather her hair, she tried to shake the sense of foreboding that hung like an ominous cloud over them.

Finishing up, he reached to shut off the shower, helping her to step out before gathering her into the fluffy complimentary towel he held out for her. Stepping into the lounge, she made a beeline to the minibar, taking a bottle of water out and unscrewing the cap, her focus on Draco as he crossed over to the table where their work was spread out. She watched as he spread out the sheets, his eyes searching for something unspoken.

"What was that about?" she asked carefully, sipping the cool liquid as she fiddled with the cap.

Draco moved pieces of parchment about, humming questioningly. He paused looking up at her waiting for her to elaborate.

"Just now, in the shower," she nodded towards the bathroom. "Where were you?"

Draco pulled out a chair with a heavy sigh, sitting on the edge, unsure how to put into words what had happened.

"Remember I mentioned the ritual that Blaise and I were expected to perform?" he asked, watching as she nodded. "There was a moment...just now...when I had a memory surface. It was hazy…." his voice trailed off. No stranger to PTSD and flashbacks herself, she nodded understanding his difficulty in expressing what had happened.

"This map," he said, gesturing to the sheets of parchment that were strewn across the table, looking across at her. "I think I've seen the original."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Where?!"

"In my Father's study."

"What is the map of?" she asked, setting the now empty bottle down on the table.

"Languedoc."

"Southern France?"

Draco nodded "The Malfoy Family is originally from Montpellier. We have a chateau in Murviel-lès-Montpellier," he told her. "It has its own vineyard. Quite popular with the Muggles actually…." he trailed off. "Don't look at me like that, you know what my Father was like. His hatred never stopped him from making a profit," he spat, remembering Lucius' hypocrisy. "Anyway, there is a villa on the estate. It's more or less in ruin now, but I remember one summer we were on holiday there with the Parkinson's. Pansy and I were running around the estate with training brooms," he smiled at the memory before continuing. "We stumbled on the villa, it had been abandoned for some time. Pansy dared me to go in, and father was furious. That's all I remember."

Hermione sat down opposite her husband. "That area of France is famous in Muggle history, are you aware of that?" she asked.

Draco shook his head.

"The Moors invaded the area in the 700's, around the same time as they were invading the Iberian Peninsula. This is around 800 years before the Ottoman Empire invaded Venice." Grabbing her quill and a piece of parchment, she sketched out a rough timeline. "They brought with them science, medicine, mathematics, architecture, universities, water systems, alchemy and magic."

Draco looked up at her, his face contorting with a mixture of amazement and confusion.

Hermione smiled, "I know what you are thinking, but at that point in history, much that was known to Muggles later as science was regarded at that time as magic. Of course, we understand from the History of Magic that some of this was magic and at that time, the lines between dark and light magic were blurred."

Draco tapped his fingers lightly on the table, lost in thought for a moment.

Hermione stood, coming to his side and squeezing his shoulder as he looked up at her.

"I think we need to go to France."

.