"Are you all packed?" Draco peeked from the bathroom adjoined in his bedroom.

"I have been for the past few days."

He chuckled, running a hand through his undone hair. "Of course. I should know better."

He crossed the room and placed a soft kiss on her lips, she could feel his smile.

"Coffee?" He offered.

"Yes please."

She looked out the window, the world had turned into a lush green landscape again. Spring was upon them. Luggage lined the floor as she and Draco prepared for their visit to France. Hermione's fingers drummed the windowsill. She couldn't help but feel the nag of anxiety that came with meeting Narcissa and Lucius. Their history was far from what anyone would call perfect, but it was time. She prepared as best as she could, not that it was a test. She interviewed Draco relentlessly, and he indulged her. Through morning coffees, between bites of their lunch, sips of their dinner wine. She knew how Narcissa drank lavender earl grey, and Lucius drank his coffee like Draco, dark and bitter. South of France had been Narcissa's choice. The Malfoy's had extensive properties, certainly more grand, but it was her favourite. She learnt of their genuine love for each other. Narcissa had been the youngest of the prestigious Black family, and Lucius certainly had choices. Choices that would have brought him more money, more things to gain than a youngest daughter, but he loved her and he certainly had more than enough. Hermione couldn't help but draw a slight parallel. Hermione had her renowned reputation, the Golden girl, but she didn't quite have the golden vault to go along with it, nor the pureblood prestige.

Hermione also packed several books, she had prior knowledge of French but she had filled her time reading books in French. She felt confident she was fluent at this point. Maybe not native speaker fluent, but she was able to keep up with more complex sentences when conversing with Draco.

They were set to leave the next morning and Draco had only began packing. It wasn't helping her anxiety knowing he had been ill prepared. Draco would soothe her and repeatedly tell her it's fine when she would ask if he's packed this or that. In the end he resigned and allowed her to make him a list and check everything off.

That night, she had been double checking everything when Draco crept up behind her, swept her hair to the side and started kissing down her neck. He knew this made her weak in the knees and there was no faster way to arouse her.

"Draco," she said with a breathy sigh, "I have to check my list."

"Forget your list," he whispered into her ear, "we'll get whatever we miss in France."

His hands started feeling her waist and down to the curve of her ass. His groan filled her ear as he pressed his body against hers, his hardness was poking her back. She felt lightheaded with desire and turned around to meet his stormy eyes, dark with lust. He averted his gaze to her lips and back to her eyes.

"Fuck, Granger." He seized her lips and pinned her wrists against the window.

Suddenly, Hermione's list had been forgotten.

"Granger, look at me" whispered Draco, pulling away slightly from the brunette. Her face was against his chest and her curly locks decorated the floor.

Hermione's response was a tired "Hmm," as they lay on the carpet in the aftermath.

"Fine then, I'll go find someone else to admire me," he pouted.

"Like who, your reflection?" She whispered.

"Who better?" he grinned.

She shook her head at him and looked up. His eyes were still dark, but not with lust. His pupils were dilated and his gaze was soft. Draco looked down at her and kissed her forehead. He had one arm beneath her and wrapping around her waist, while the other cradled her face. His face lowered and pressed a single kiss into her collarbone, then he let her go, as he sat up and walked out the room to grab her a robe. A blush crept up to her cheeks, she touched the spot his lips had grazes. He never stopped making her stomach do nervous flips, reduced to a schoolgirl with a crush. Hermione doubted the feeling would ever go away. She soon followed suit, only to be greeted with an empty bedroom. Maybe he did find someone to admire his physique. She sat down to the bed still in her robe, arms crossed. A few seconds later, Draco walked in with two lemon meringue tarts in hand, and a sparkle in his eyes. He plopped down next to her, shoving the other plate in her hands, eagerly looking down at the tart.

"Tart," he said when Hermione didn't grab the plate.

"Draco Malfoy, that's not a name you call your girlfriend," she said in pretend outrage.

"My love," he crooned to the tart in his other hand.

The only sweet thing that could take Draco Malfoy's attention, was thankfully, not another witch. She smiled as he took small little bites of the miniature dessert. He savoured every crumb. She watched attentively for every glint of light that lit up his grey eyes, turning them to a shade of white gold. Every millimetre that his lips turned after every bite was etched into Hermione's brain. She studied him like he was a book, poring over every letter, every detail.

"Are you going to eat that?" he stared at the untouched pastry still in her hands after he had swallowed his last bite.

"You've had yours, don't be greedy," she pulled the plate away from his reach.

"If I don't want for more than what I have, I'd be a disgrace to Slytherin," he reached out, trying to wrestle the plate from Hermione's grip.

"You're a disgrace to your Malfoy manners, eating in your bed, and taking from your guest," she pushed him away still. "I should write your mother!"

He gasped. "The horror!"

Hermione laughed and finally gave in, passing her plate to Draco.

"I love you," he said with a smile.

"Me or the tart?"

"Are you not both?" He joked.

She threw a pillow at his face.

That next morning, Hermione was not in a good mood and she had blamed Draco for "distracting" her. She was busy trying to go over everything once more, and Draco let her boss him around. He cleaned up the apartment with a swish of his wand and summoned things she read out of her list. When she felt satisfied, he made them coffee and some waffles with cinnamon apples drizzled with honey and topped with whipped cream. Hermione was pulled into his lap as they fed each other bites of their sweet breakfast.

"My mom used to make them just like this," she said after taking a bite.

"Next time, I'll make you my mom's birthday specialty."

She turned to meet his gaze, "Narcissa Malfoy cooks?"

He chuckled at her baffled expression, "for me, when I was younger. But only when I was sick or on my birthdays."

"What did she make you?"

"When I would get sick she would make me cheesy truffle pumpkin soup. And every year until I was 14, I would ask for fluffy custard pancakes topped with lots of whipped cream and hazelnut chocolate and a gold leaf chocolate frog on top."

"Sounds decadent, what kind of kid likes truffles?"

"Malfoy kids."

"There's only one Malfoy kid."

"For now," Draco smirked.

She gave him a look of horror, "what do you mean by that?"

He rubbed her stomach, "soon to be another, perhaps?"

She wrenched free from his arms and jumped off his lap, "absolutely not anytime soon!"

Draco got up and followed her, wiggling his eyebrows and jokingly trying to seduce her. "Wanna practice?"

"This isn't funny!" She squeaked.

He grinned, "I don't think there's anything funny about practicing, in fact we should take it very very seriously?"

"Keep it up and there'll be no more Malfoy kids ever," her wand was pointed at his jewels.

He raised his arms up in surrender and backed away slowly, still smirking. "Okay, okay. I surrender."

Hermione grinned and in a Muggle-like fashion, blew off some smoke she conjured from her wand, as if it was a gun. "I thought so."

"You're cruel, I don't think Malfoy camp will be a good idea. Any more Slytherin tricks you pick up might make you unbearable."

She rolled her eyes and shoved his arm gently.

They gathered everything up and got in the fireplace. With a handful of Floo powder, Draco said, "Malfoy château."

They were greeted by bright lights and summer air. The open arms of his mother, came into view. As she got closer, it was clear her hair was whiter than the last time he saw her. She looked thinner, and fragile. Draco was afraid to give her a long hug, scared she would break to pieces in his arms. Lucius pat his back before stepping away, allowing Draco to introduce Hermione.

Narcissa took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. "It's wonderful to finally see you. I'm honoured you accepted the invitation to our château."

"Champagne? It's from our vineyard, offered Narcissa.

"That would be wonderful, mother. Thank you." as Draco grabbed two flutes from the floating tray for Hermione and him."

Hermione smiled and thanked her for the invitation to their home. Lucius was cordial but did not attempt any graciousness in his greeting. Draco studied him. To one that didn't know him, everything was well. He could simply be perceived as a stoic man, intimidating and acts befitting to his family's wealth and station. But the younger Malfoy had spent years with him, studying his mood, his every twitch, every glimmer in his eyes, tip toeing around him on his bad days. He was hiding something. There was a slight clench to his jaw, his eyes a dull lifeless grey. He was Occluding.

Draco kept a watchful eye on his father for the entirety of the tour they had been given for Hermione's benefit. Not once did he meet his eyes. He remained behind Narcissa and Hermione. His line of vision never leaving Narcissa's pale hand on Hermione's arm. Draco wondered, if he was going to act this way, why bother inviting the two of them at all? He didn't understand. He supposed he was having trouble coming to terms with Hermione's blood status and he was only trying to appease mother. That could be it, but why the need to Occlude? Did he not want Draco to hear the filthy insults going through his head or how he's tainting the pure Malfoy bloodline by even being this close to Hermione? It could be, but he's never been one to bite his tongue for the sake of someone else's comfort, specially someone he views as inferior.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione's sigh, "oh they are beautiful."

She was referring to the garden where flowers bloomed all over. Narcissa led her to the red rose bush and Hermione swooned over the blossoms. Draco thought the garden looked sparse. As compared to the Malfoy Manor gardens and the last time he saw the chateau, the floral landscape paled.

Narcissa conjured a vase and with a swish of her wand cut some of the roses for her and levitated them into the vase. "Draco, darling. Why don't you hold on to these for Miss Granger and you can bring it up to the guest room later on?"

Draco reached over and held them for her, his mind still wondering.

Not a second later, Narcissa swayed a little and Lucius immediately rushed to steady her. But for the few seconds when his father had been distracted by concern, Draco got a glimpse of the real reason he was occluding.

He dropped the glass he was holding. Hermione stood next to Narcissa, in shock. She stared at the shattered glass, the sharp edges glistened slightly in the sun.

She looked at Draco, silently begging him to meet her eyes but he was only looking at his father. He was staring into the same grey eyes. Except his father's were calm while Draco's eyes raged like an unsteady hurricane, like winds whipping the ocean into discord.

She watched as Lucius gave Narcissa a knowing look and his mother's sad eyes met his, "Draco, please let me explain."