72

Catch me." Her legs buckled and she fell against him, too tired to stand anymore.

"Come on." He sighed. "Let's get you sorted out." Sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her back through to his bedroom. Setting her down on the bed, he waved his wand and she heard a bath begin to run.

"What are you doing?" she asked groggily, rubbing her temples in an attempt to stop the pounding in her head.

"You still smell of alcohol," he shrugged, removing his jacket and shirt, "you need a bath." He disappeared into the bathroom and she heard the taps stop.

"Can't I just go to sleep?" she moaned, lying down and pulling a pillow over her head.

"No." He replied simply, walking back over to the bed and helping her get out of her clothes.

"But I just want to go to sleep." She protested as he picked her up.

"No."

"Why not," she complained, although lacking the energy to stop him, "oh," he lowered her into the warm water, "that's why."

"See," he smiled in a self satisfied manner, "a good bath is good for any hangover." He slid in next to her and pulled her close.

"As is sleep." She countered as he carefully wet her hair, lathering shampoo in it to get rid of the smell of stagnant alcohol which still lingered.

Finally, after a blissful hour spent dozing on his shoulder, he lifted her out of the bath and tucked her away in bed. It was only half past four and yet she was sound asleep. He chuckled to himself as he let the drapes fall down one side of the bed, blocking out the light from the windows.

"The misadventures of youth." He sighed, pulling on his shirt and wandering through to his study. He could see that she had been anything but idle; the desk was covered in paperwork, including a copy of the document that gave her guardianship of the estate. The clause that gave her most concern was ringed in red ink several times. Around the edges were scribbled notes on how to avoid Draco regaining control.

Sitting down and putting his feet up on a nearby footstool, he looked over what she had noted down. Quite thankfully, it appeared that her life and studies had also taught her to read carefully into what was written. Technically, it stipulated that she had control if he and his son were incarcerated, but it did not mention what would happen if happen if Draco was free. It could be assumed that she had guardianship whilst either one of them was incarcerated, thus keeping her safe from a vengeful Draco, or it could be read as leaving her position void should Draco be free.

Turning back to his desk, he set quill to paper and began to draft letter to his solicitors. Hopefully, they would have sense to change the document before his son's trial. It was evident that Fudge was aiming for swift trials and convictions for all those save the major players, such as himself. Draco, with both Potters, Granger and Weasley corroborating the fact that he attempted to use the killing curse, and did use several unforgiveables, on them all, he was likely to find himself on the wrong end of a life sentence in Azkaban.

However, he had saved his son once before from the fate of Azkaban. What was to say that he could not provide the same defence and gain the same reprieve? However much he had wished it, his son had never been the man he was supposed to be. True, he had been spoiled insofar that he had expected everything to be delivered on a platter. That expectation had come from his time at Hogwarts, when he had been required to act like he thought a Malfoy should. The mere slip of a woman, however, that was lying in his bed seemed to understand what being a Malfoy really meant.

She was barely grown, yet could hold a room with a mere look; something which very few could manage. Her eyes, although beautiful, showed that she had seen the worst side of human nature. He had seen it when she was upset; a sharp glint of a greater pain belying whatever was upsetting her at that moment. It pained him to know that he was the cause of such agony, that he had been the one to hurt her so egregiously. He sometimes found himself wondering how she could still bear to look him the eye after what he had done to her, let alone find comfort in his arms.

He walked through his house, relishing the solitude, and gazing at the portraits on the walls. There were hundreds of years of Malfoys before his eyes and he found himself wondering how many of the families had actually been born of love. Arranged marriages were inherent in the Malfoy Family; many of his ancestors had been married for material reasons, as opposed to the wishes of their hearts. True, there had been some attraction and, at one point, love between he and Narcissa but he would be a fool to declare that he married her for her own merits. His marriage had been to preserve the purity of the Malfoy line, and also to increase the size of the Malfoy fortune upon the death of Narcissa's father.

The families, although numerous, were also painfully small. Many of the Malfoy children, like Draco, had grown up without siblings because they, the male heir, had been born first. It had been an unspoken rule that, once a male heir was born, the family could risk no more children for fear that it would tear the size of the estate in two. Female offspring were often pushed to the side in favour of the male.

He walked back to his study, darkness now beginning to fall, with these thoughts in his head. Giving her an eternity ring was as close as he had come to telling her how he felt. He had never been so explicit with his feelings before, and yet something made him feel like he should be.

"You know I'm surprised that she hasn't persuaded them to place you under house arrest." A dry voice spoke from the doorway. "After all she has managed to get so far."

"She is in little mood to negotiate." Lucius smirked as Snape moved further into the room.

"I'm surprised she lasted as long as she did."

"She's in bed now." Lucius chuckled. "Sleeping off a monster of a hangover."

"You do know there are potions for that?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, but I think she needs the rest too."

"Indeed." Snape took a chair by the fire and Lucius moved to join him.

"I assume that I have you to thank for her safe return?" he asked. "Had her brother gone to fetch her, I would be reading about it here." He picked up that morning's copy of the Prophet. Instead of a photo of her having a drunken row with her brother gracing the front page, there was one of him carrying her unconscious form out of the courtroom. He didn't know how that photographer had managed to get a photo, or even got the camera in, but he assumed that Rita Skeeter had something to do with it.

"That you do," Snape nodded, "but it was nothing more than fulfilling a promise."

"You still have my thanks."

"To be honest, she wasn't half as bad as some of the Muggles I saw." Snape confessed.

"Really," Lucius sneered, "where was she?"

"Newcastle," Snape relied, "the place might be renowned for its ancient wizarding culture but I never want to go there in the middle of a Muggle night out." He went on to explain. "The women wore next to nothing and the men didn't seem to differ from the standard, lecherous drunk."

"What a wonderful place." Lucius drawled. "How much had she imbibed, just out of curiosity?"

"She'd had about half a bottle of vodka before she left here; I'm surprised she even managed to apparate."

"It's a good thing she didn't end up splinched in the middle of nowhere." He shook his head. "Thank god that she wasn't caught at it by the Prophet."

"I do think that that Fudge went too far though." Snape commented. "And her reaction was simply the culmination of too much stress."

"I do worry about how much she can take."

"I think she is stronger than most believe," Snape mused, "she has her mother in her. Lily was strong, I mean, she threw herself in front of her children without a thought for her own life."

"And I saw what she did in the forest," Lucius went on, "what she and her brother did. Walking out to face death like that was something beyond strength, beyond courage."

"And, despite everything," Snape added, taking a deep breath, "despite how cruel I have been to them, how I have ignored her prowess in Potions and her general achievements, she still thought I deserved to live. She could've left me there on the floor of the shrieking shack to bleed to death, but she didn't. She saw fit to save me, despite the danger it put she and her friends in."

"And then she walked calmly into Death's arms." Lucius finished as they were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes?" he called out and a house elf appeared through the door.

"Dinner is ready Sir." She squeaked. "Is Professor Snape joining you, Master?"

"Yes, we will dine in the family dining room."

"As you wish." The elf bowed low. "Will Mistress be joining Master and Professor Snape?"

"No." Snape noticed how Kathryn was referred to as 'mistress'. "She is asleep and is in no mood for dinner." With another low bow, the house elf disappeared.