"Draco, darling, where have you been?" Narcissa cried as she wrapped her arms around her son.

"Away, Mother," he responded gently as he disentangled himself from her embrace.

"It certainly seems have done you a world of good.  Look at yourself," she said, dragging him to the mirror.  "Your eyes… I don't think I have ever seen you so happy."

Draco had to smile at his reflection.  The week he and Hermione spent together in Paris had been wonderful.  He hadn't realised just how much he had missed waking up in the same bed as Hermione.  Feeling her – more often than not, naked – body curled into his had made him realise just how much he missed her.

"Ah, Draco, you've returned.  Where do you think you have been?" Lucius asked in a cold tone as he entered the room.

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but Lucius cut him off.

"You cannot disappear for a week without so much as a word.  You have a responsibility to the Malfoy name and your fiancée."

"Yes, Father."

"We are going to the Hallows for dinner tonight.  We will be leaving just before seven o'clock.  Make sure you're here and ready," Lucius muttered as he swept from the room.

"It's lovely to have you home, Draco," Narcissa said.  She sighed sadly when she notice the brightness that had moments ago graced his eyes had faded.

"Mr and Mrs Malfoy, Draco, welcome," Mrs Sophia Hallow said with a smile when the elf-butler directed the Malfoys in the drawing room of the Hallow Estate where she, her husband George and Georgette where waiting for their arrival.

"Draco," George began, "You remember our daughter, don't you?"

"Of course I do, sir.  There is no way I could forget her," he said with cold eyes as he kissed her proffered hand.

"Excellent!" George said as he clapped his hands together.  "Now, I'm sure the two of you will want to catch up, so we've had the elves set up a small table just for the two of you outside on the terrace."

"Really, Mr Hallow, there was no need to go to so much trouble."

"Draco," Lucius chastised his son.  "Mind your manners."

"Yes, Father," Draco said softly, feeling like a four year old. 

A moment later, two house elves appeared in the room.  One escorted Lucius, Narcissa, Sophia and George into the dining room, while the other led Draco and Georgette onto the terrace.

As she passed Draco, Narcissa offered him a small, sad smile.

"I never would have guessed that we'd be engaged.  Would you, Draco?" Georgette asked sweetly.

"No."

"I suppose you were looking for your intellectual superior, right?"

He made a non-committal sound.

"It is a pity things happened the way they did, isn't it?  But, everything did work out for the best.  Imagine the impression we will be making on the Wizarding world.  Two of the most elite Wizarding families in Britain united."

Draco glanced up at her from his dinner.

"Are you trying to convince yourself that this marriage is the correct, Georgette?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

 "Oh, spare me, woman!  I have known you since you were six.  I know when you're trying to cover something up.  You don't want to go through with this con, do you?"

"I don't like the thought of the man I'm about to marry in love with another woman."

"Are you telling me that there is no-one you would prefer to be with?"

She wanted to lie and say 'yes', but the look he gave her forced her to be honest. 

"No."

"So, leave," Draco suggested as if it was the most logical solution.  "Go be with your lover."

"I could never do that!  Father would disown me!  I've heard what they did to your aunt who married that Muggle."

She was right, Draco admitted.  If either of them ended the engagement, they would be facing two furious fathers, disownment and possibly death.

"You know, I've never forgiven you for what you did in sixth year," Draco said in a harsh voice before returning to his dinner.

***

"Good morning, Mother," Draco said with a forced smile as he entered her sitting room the day before his engagement party.

"Good morning, Draco.  Are you busy, dear?"

"No, what is the matter?" he asked as he sat down next to her.

"Draco, I know that you don't care for Georgette.  Just like I know you're in love with another woman."

"Really, Mother.  I don't know what-"

"I've seen you Draco.  You have this light in your eyes when you think that no one is watching you.  I know that that light fades when you're with Georgette.  I was once in your position, Draco."

"What are you talking about, Mother?" Draco asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I was once – I still am – in love with another man.  He was a Muggle born, and as far as my parents were concerned socially beneath me.  We had planned to elope, but my parents discovered our intentions and hastened my marriage to your father.

"Since then, your father has done everything possible to make my life miserable.  Dear, I don't want that for you; I want you to be happy with the woman you love.  Draco, you must, break off the engagement!"

"Narcissa," Lucius drawled from the doorway.  "Wife, I'd like a word if you please."

Draco glanced between his parents.  For twenty-six years he had believed that his parents had just fallen out of love.  It had never occurred to him that his Father hated his Mother. 

"Draco, leave us," Lucius ordered.  Once the door was safely shut, Lucius turned to his wife.

"What in the name of Merlin did you just tell him?" he bellowed as he pulled her roughly into a standing position.

"I told him that I want him to be happy," she answered bravely.

"There was more to your conversation than that!" he yelled as he slapped her across the face.

"I told him the truth!"

"How dare you!"  He slapped her across the face again with so much force that her knees buckled and she fell to the floor.

"Lucius, he is a grown man!  He deserves the right to make his own decisions.  He deserves the right to marry for love!" Narcissa gasped as she pulled herself up on a side table.  "You need to call this engagement off before it goes too far!"

"Don't presume to tell me what to do.  I know you still go to your lover."

"That's not true!" she cried indignantly.

"Narcissa," he said in a dangerously low voice as he pointed his wand at her, "You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name.  I just hope that Miss Hallow is not like you and that she will be a proper wife to Draco."

"I'm not a proper wife?  I have thrown dinner party after dinner party for all of your Death Eater and Ministry colleagues.  I lied to the Ministry at your request when you were accused of being a Death Eater.  I gave up on love for you, Lucius!"

"Spare me, Narcissa," he snapped as he passionately applied the Cruciatus curse.

He seemed to take perverse pleasure at the sight of his wife on the floor screaming in pain. 

Moments before she was about to pass out, he removed the curse and left the room.

"You will pay for what you have done to me, and what you are doing to Draco," she mumbled to herself as she lost consciousness.

***

"He's dead!" Narcissa sobbed as she threw herself into Andrew Gordon's arms.  "Drew, he's gone!"

"Cissa, darling, calm down," he said softly as he scooped her up and carried her into the lounge where he held her tightly while he whispered calming words in her ear and kissed her hair.  When her hiccoughing had stopped, he shifted his position on the chair so that he could look at her.

"What happened?"

"He's dead!  I killed him, Drew!  I couldn't stand the thought…  I didn't want to see it anymore.  I killed him.  I went into the kitchens, took a knife and I stabbed him!  They can't know I did it!  I'll go to Azkaban if they find out!"

She looked down at her hands and screamed when she saw his blood caught under her fingernails.

"Look, his blood.  I'm so dirty, Drew.  I'm covered in his blood!" She wept as she gazed at her bloodstained robes.  "I've scrubbed and scrubbed, but it won't come off.  It will never come off!  The perfumes of the world will not sweeten my hands."

Keeping her in his embrace, Drew rose from the lounge and carried her to the bathroom.

***

Hermione slammed the door to her house shut after work.  It had been a horrible day.  First, she was criticised for presenting a report that was 'far' too long, then she received seven owls each with important letters that required her immediate attention and finally when she went to see Draco at lunch, he wasn't there.

She flicked on the Witch's Wireless Network in the kitchen and turned the volume up as she went to the bathroom.

"… Malfoy has been found dead in his Wiltshire home," reported the newsreader.  "A representative for the family today issued a statement: 'He was announced late this morning.  The Ministry has promised us that it will do everything it possibly can to ensure closure.'  The death is being treated as suspicious."

"Draco?" Hermione sobbed as she sank down onto the edge of the bath. 

The next few days were the worst in Hermione's life.  She hadn't slept since she had heard the news on the WWN and she made sure that she was busy every moment to avoid thinking about her loss.  There were dark shadows under her eyes, her face was drawn and her robes seemed to hang from her thinning body.

A great emptiness and pain filled the hole in her heart and soul where she thought Draco would always belong.  He was gone; he'd never come back.

The tears that she had been shedding for the past three days fell once again. 

Work would be the best place for her, Hermione decided as she sliced a piece of fruit.  Her work would keep her mind off Draco.  She didn't want to think about him, or the week they had spent together.  It would make it worse.

Her breath caught when she felt a sharp pain slice through her finger.  She had cut herself.

Pretty was the only thought Hermione could register as she watched her blood stain the cutting board.  The physical pain was a relief.  She no longer felt the void that Draco's death had left within her…

Alexander Elliott turned to the Ministry's main fireplace where he threw Floo power into the flames.

"Elliott how is she?" Draco asked desperately.

"She's not good," he said, his head in the flames.

"Tell her to come to the Manor tonight.  I need to see her."

"I can't.  She hasn't shown up for work this morning.  I tried Flooing her, but she isn't- Draco?"

Alexander pulled his head out of the fireplace with a sigh when Draco's head disappeared.

"Hermione!  Pet, where are you?" Draco hysterically cried as he Apparated into her house.

When he reached the kitchen and saw her collapsed on the floor in a pool of blood, he fell at her side, tears stinging his eyes.  He held back an anguished cry when he realised she wasn't breathing. 

St Mungo's.  He had to get her to St Mungo's.  Gathering her into his arms as gently as possible, he Disapparated.

She had been in a coma for almost two days, during which time, Draco had never left her side.  His habitually crisp robes were crumpled, his eyes were vacant and his hair looked a lot like Harry Potter's.

"Hermione, pet, what have you done to yourself?" he whispered into her ear.  "Love, I need you.  I can't lose you – not again.  If I could, I'd go back to Sixth year and suffer Father's wrath, just to be with you.  I can't bear the thought of losing you.  I love you, Hermione Granger."

Something was wrong, he knew before two witches came rushing into the room, pushing him out of the way.

"Mr Malfoy, you have to move out of the way and let us work!" a witch snapped at him.

"No!"  He tightened his grip on her hand.

Cursing under her breath, the witch and her partner cast healing charm after healing charm in an attempt to save Hermione.

"Leave it, Nancy," the first witch said.  "Time is seven twenty-two."

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?" Draco yelled as he drew his wand.  "You can't just leave her!  Save her!"

"Mr Malfoy, there's nothing we can do.  She's gone, I'm sorry," Nancy said softly as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder before she followed the other witch out of the room.

He didn't care!  It didn't matter to him that he was supposed to be a Malfoy who showed no form of emotion.  Gently, as not to disturb her, he slipped onto the bed next to Hermione and quietly sobbed into her hair.

She was gone.  His love had just died.  He had found her, eight years after he lost her only to lose her once again.