Hermione didn't have to send any more frantic messages to Draco for the remainder of her bachelorette party, and she took that to be a good sign that they had both curtailed a collapse in their insanity. Granted, gleefully committing a murder pointed to instability in all respects, but nevertheless… The brunette got to be pampered without worry. There were crude jokes, awkward dancing, and questionable sounds in the middle of night that fueled the belief that one of the two single witches, Millicent or Pansy, enjoyed these few days away far more than Hermione did.

By the evening of May 19th, they were leaving the spa and headed to Dunrobin Castle in Scotland. No, it wasn't a cliffside castle like she and Narcissa had talked about, but Hermione had come across it in a magazine at her mum's and fell in love with it immediately. She hadn't a clue if it would be possible to hold the wedding there, but she had apparently forgotten the family she was going to be marrying into. Either money, magic, or both, had had a hand in it, but regardless it was done. She and Draco would be getting married out on the grounds at sunset and a highly overdone reception would be held inside the castle walls. Several members of the Weasley family had been gracious enough to head to various members of Hermione's family in order to apparate with them to the castle tomorrow afternoon—something the witch suspected was a guilt move after their brief animosity concerning Draco.

By the next day, her long awaited wedding day, Hermione was woken up from her sleep by a loud, yet still dignified-sounding knock. It was hard to describe, but "restrained" and "urgent" seemed to do it well enough.

"Let me, Mistress Granger!"

The little squeak that emanated from the side of Hermione's bed further woke her, and she sat up abruptly, unfortunately kickstarting a headache. "I'm sorry," she addressed, "but where exactly did you come from?"

"I is Wimbly!" the little house elf said. "Mistress Malfoy has assigned Wimbly to be the house elf of the new Mistress Malfoy!"

Hermione's mouth fell open as she watched her house elf run off across the bedroom and to the door that, yet again, had been knocked on. The brunette might have caved into a few Malfoy habits, but having a house elf was not going to be one of them. She was now utterly determined to free the small creature as soon as possible, but that wasn't going to be happening at this moment. She was distracted by the man who was going to be her father-in-law in just a few hours.

Lucius had walked into her suite after giving Wimbly the most horrid expression of disgust. That was yet another reason for Hermione to set Wimbly free. No one, house elf or human, should be subject to such poor treatment. Hermione reined in her frown by the time Lucius got close enough to notice, and he cleared his throat in order to fully garner her attention.

"Are you lost, by chance?" Hermione questioned. Something akin to a smile twerked at his lips, which she assumed meant that he approved of the little quip. As it stood, it had been a purposeful choice of words as he had once said those to her.

"No," he replied simply. "I merely came to give you something."

It was for the first time that Hermione noticed that Lucius had been carrying something. It looked like a book —a familiar book that she most likely had already read. She couldn't read a title on the cover or the spine, but she could tell that it was leather-bound. Only rare books were in leather these days, but the book didn't appear to have any age.

"A wedding gift?" Hermione asked curiously as she pushed back her comforter and let her feet fall to the floor. She was more than happy that her nightwear was nothing but modest. It still didn't make this moment any less awkward.

"Not a gift," Lucius said as he held out the book. "Rather, it's a necessary tradition. You are being given your own Malfoy journal. Use it however you wish," he added as Hermione took the journal from his hand and sat on the edge of her bed. "As with all of our journals, it's charmed. You are the only person with the ability to read it —while alive, at any rate. Upon your death, its readability is extended to Malfoys only."

As Lucius spoke, Hermione understood why the journal had looked so familiar. She had seen one before. Several of them, actually. A Ministry raid had been performed on Malfoy Manor shortly after Lucius' capture and conviction after the incident in the Department of Mysteries. Of the things that were taken were dozens of little black books —the journals. In her early days as part of a task force to get the wizarding world back on track, she had wondered why, of all things, Aurors would take journals. She supposed that they might have thought something would be of use to them written there. They were right, but the journals were utterly useless now that Lucius had told her of their charms.

Hermione chuckled and looked from the journal to Lucius who still stood near her. "Do you put the charms on yourself?"

"Impressed?" Lucius countered, choosing to dodge the question and instead bask in narcissism. It was a strenuous effort for Hermione to keep in her snort.

"No more impressive than any modified spell," she replied snootily. She derived an unnatural pleasure at the dissatisfaction brewing in his eyes, but it was short-lived as she caved. "However, you must admit that a charmed journal pales in comparison to the, obviously illegal, modifications made on a Malfoy wand."

"That's quite the accusation," he sniffed. "What makes you think that such a thing exists on our wands? It would be extraordinary magic indeed."

Much like her snort, Hermione had to work overtime to keep her eyes from rolling. She suddenly saw all the traits that Draco had as a child manifest before her. The need to be praised. The desire to show off. The blatant fishing. Merlin forbid she ever have the urge to showboat —however restrained the endeavor. It was tiring, to say the least, to play such a game to begin with.

"Not too long ago you helped Draco with a…let's call it a 'project,'" Hermione worded carefully despite no one else being in the room. When Lucius nodded, she continued with a casual shrug. "That's what told me. Draco used a bit of not-so-friendly magic —on a muggle, no less. It wasn't until the high wore off that I realized Aurors should have barreled down on us, but none did."

"Had it been your wand to be used, then they would have," Lucius commented. "We'll have to rectify that as soon as possible. The life of a Malfoy is tricky, and we do what we must to minimize the damage."

"Of course," she murmured, nearly shivering at the nonchalant description of what her life had now become.

"I'll take my leave," Lucius suddenly announced. "After the wedding, write your married name on the inside of the journal," he added as he gestured to the leather notebook in Hermione's hand. "It will also need a bloodied fingerprint to seal the charms."

"I will. Anything else?"

"…Perhaps. A small inquiry, if you will." He paused for a moment, waiting for Hermione to incline her head. Once she had, Lucius tilted his own and gently raised his chin to ask, "Why did you feed that man before killing him?"

Well, Hermione certainly wasn't expecting that. Regardless, it was easy to answer for she had thought about it more than once. With a careless shrug she answered him. "He was homeless. I don't know what his life was like prior to that moment had been, but right then it was shit. He at least deserved one good thing to happen to him before the ultimate worst."

Lucius was quiet for a moment as he observed his pending daughter-in-law. Hermione wondered what he thought of her, but it wasn't long before she was enlightened. "You are…a peculiar murderer."

"Murderer yes, but at least I'm no monster," Hermione replied. Lucius said nothing more and finally left her alone. Others may have disputed if there was even a difference between "murderer" and "monster," but to her it gave her a clearer conscience.

"Hermione?"

"GO AWAY!" Daphne shouted.

It made Hermione's ears bleed considering that the woman was currently fixing the brunette's makeup. She had been shooing away anyone that had come to the suite as Hermione got ready. The only exception to make it through these doors had been Hermione's mother, whom Ginny had brought along with her. Ginny had remained in the room, along with Luna, in order to help with whatever the bride-to-be would need. It was the redhead who had recognized the voice and she got up to answer the door.

"Calm down, it's just my husband."

"So?" Daphne huffed. "The more people that see Hermione, the less dramatic the reveal is going to be!"

"Daphne, it's fine," Hermione told her as she laughed. "I promise. It's not like Harry is going to take a picture of me and show me to everyone."

"Oh, alright, fine. But he's going to be the only one!"

Ginny had already opened the door, happily greeting Harry and noticing that he wasn't alone. "Charlie! Mum said that you weren't going to make it!"

"For fuck's sake," came Daphne's disgruntled voice in the distance, but Ginny ignored it as she let Harry and Charlie inside the room.

"I wasn't going to until this morning," Charlie happily replied. "It took three separate Floo Port trips to make it from Indonesia, but it worked out okay. How's the bride-to-be?" he called over to Hermione as he slowly made it to her side. "Dreading your future slice of hell, I imagine —no offense to your friend," he added to Daphne.

"Completely taken, but go on," she chuckled. Hermione gently patted Charlie on the arm, knowing full-well that he wasn't on board with the whole 'Malfoy Marriage' as the rest of his family (and others), but the support was appreciated nonetheless.

"It's fine, Charlie, believe it or not. Draco's not the teenager he used to be. We're adults, and we've made the best of things."

"I think he loves her," Luna suddenly declared. All eyes turned to the blonde who had been happily sitting on an armchair while wearing her bridesmaid's dress, her feet tucked under her, and serenely looking up at the ceiling. While everyone looked appalled by the statement with the exception of Hermione and Daphne, Harry was curious as he had had his own assumptions a few months ago.

"Why do think that?" Harry asked. Luna finally turned her gaze from the ceiling and directly addressed him.

"They're having a wedding," she said simply. "Why do all of this if he didn't love her at least a little?"

"Very astute, Lovegood," Daphne beamed as she took a step back from Hermione. She put her hands on her hips and sighed happily. "All done. Now you," she gestured to Harry and Charlie, "are henceforth being kicked out of here. Hermione's got a wedding dress to slip into."

A sunset wedding was a beautiful idea. It was still bright enough that lighting up the grounds wasn't necessary, but still dark enough to create an alluring ambience. As Draco stood near the wedding officiate, he couldn't help but laugh internally at the wedding guests before hm. There was such a mix here that defied all sense of logic —Malfoy logic, anyway. First and foremost, there were muggles, curtesy of Hermione's family. Then there were the "blood traitors," or so Draco's father had been calling them once he had been made aware of the guestlist. Finally, there were members of his own family and family friends. If Draco was to describe the scene, it would be the side of Light on one side while the side of Dark lay on the right. He imagined that the reception would be very much the same, but so long as no one cursed each other tonight, he would consider it a win.

"You're fidgeting, dear," Narcissa said as she gently ran her hands across his lapel. Draco smiled and gently removed her hands so that he could hold them in his.

"I think you're the one who's fidgeting, Mother," Draco replied as he raised her hands up to eye-level.

Narcissa performed the closest action to an eyeroll as she could get while still being dignified and expelled a happy sigh. "This is a day that every mother dreams of, you know."

"Is it?" he questioned with a cheeky grin. "I didn't know that you were in favor of a marriage law."

"Oh, Draco, stop it. Despite the hideous circumstances, you're still getting married. Besides," she added with a slight lift of her chin, "So I've been made aware, Miss Granger appears to have fully acclimated to our way of life."

"It was either that or go insane," Draco shrugged. "What did you expect?"

"From the person who once told his father that he would prefer insanity over murder? More pushback, if I'm being honest," Narcissa admitted. She ignored her son's curious gaze and kept her hands busy by brushing imaginary dust off of his shoulders. "Nevertheless, you have someone to love you now and to help you carry your burden. Our curse is terrible yes, but it also allows you to love harder because of it."

Love harder…

Draco thought on those words as his mother was told to take her seat for the ceremony that was about to begin. He stood where he was supposed to, hands behind his back, trying not to appear as nervous as his mother had suggested, and wondered how things would be different. Would he feel as in love as he did right now if the love was pure? Was it usually so intense? Or was it a dull ache? Draco had never been in love before, and so he had nothing to compare it to. However, as the procession started, and Ginny, Luna, and Daphne walked down the aisle along with their groomsmen, he realized that he didn't care. His mother was right. He had Hermione now, and that was all that mattered. She liked to listen to him read and fall asleep to the sound of his voice. She hummed when she showered, and he sometimes stood by the bathroom door and eavesdropped. She may have had the worst taste in wine, but her nose crinkled when she drank it. And by Merlin, did the woman have horrendous dinner etiquette. Granted, Draco had had such etiquette drilled into him from a child, but was it really so hard for others to learn? Regardless, he loved every error she made, and every imperfection she had, because that was what made her perfect.

"I do," Draco heard Hermione say. He shook himself out of his inner thoughts, taking a moment to focus on her smile. A true, happy smile, with a twinkle in her eye that lit up the rest of her face.

Draco repeated those very words before Theo handed over the one half of a Malfoy family wedding set that matched Hermione's engagement ring. It slid onto her finger so effortlessly like it was made for her, and maybe because he was riding an increasing high, but when she slid his ring onto his finger, it felt like everything was complete.

When he was finally told that he could kiss her, Draco didn't need telling twice. There may have been groans from both sides of the aisle, but they were tuned out because they didn't matter. They were husband and wife. Murderer and Murderess. Sane and Insane. They were in this for the long haul —blood and all.

August 28th, 2007

I can't believe that I'm actually writing in this thing, but I suppose it was going to happen eventually. I had a journal when I was a child that I used to write in religiously. I spoke of the normal things a child would —school, my friends, and boys that I liked. The difference between then and now is that the fear is gone. Whereas my childhood murmurings could be found out if my mother or father had found my journal, that certainly wasn't the case here. Knowing that no one can read what I'm writing is giving me a liberty that I never once thought I could have. I can pour out my whole heart here without judgement. That's not to say that I fear being judged. It's just…different knowing that your thoughts are truly your own.

So, here it goes…

This past Saturday, my "lovely" in-laws hosted yet another event with dozens of people who would have loved to kill me. It wasn't a last-minute affair like the engagement party. Apparently, they threw a party to celebrate the end of summer every year. Innocent enough —minus the guests. Draco had insisted that I didn't have to go, but I promptly asked him if he was going. The tinge to his cheeks had told me yes, and so I put out my big girl cauldron and decided that I would walk among Satan's disciples.

The event had proven…interesting, to say the least. Not that anything went wrong. On the contrary, everything went extremely well. People who I thought would string me up on a pole had been polite. No disparaging remarks had come my way, nor was there any dirty look of the eye. It had been so baffling that, of course, I told Draco about it. Surely, the events of the night were strange to him, yes?

Draco had agreed that it was odd, but that it also wasn't altogether unexpected. Naturally they were aware that he had killed Rodolphus. Apparently, none of them were particularly keen on getting killed by him for tampering with his witch —bludgeoned or otherwise.

Interesting what one little murder could do.

November 14th, 2007

It's been six months since Draco and I needed to kill someone. It was Draco who was plagued with insanity this time around. It wasn't like mine though. I don't know what he saw or heard, but he came home from work last night absolutely shaken to the core. I tried everything to get him to talk to me, but nothing worked. I began to panic, and I suddenly wondered if this was what Narcissa and Lucius saw that made them force her and Draco's hand to kill. If it was, I can hardly hold a grudge anymore, even though I still want to. Seeing Draco the way that he was today… It hurt me more than I could bare.

Years of plotting murders had given the Malfoys tons of strategies, not to mention locations to fulfill them. I didn't dare go back to the same town where Draco and I had gone months ago, and so I picked one off an inexhaustible list. It had been late and quiet, and quite easy to find someone to save my husband. It wasn't until last night that I realized all of the previous murders had been gruesome in some way. Not this time. A quick and clean Avada had been enough, and thanks to tricks of my dear father-in-law, the Ministry were none-the-wiser.

I came home to find Draco snapped out of his shock. I had barely had time to set my wand down before he ravished me. Not that I complained. I was just happy to have my husband back.

February, 15th, 2008

I don't know what I expected from Draco for Valentine's Day, but it certainly wasn't what I had expected. I walked into our bedroom to find the floor covered in books. At first, I was going to argue about the mess, but then I caught the title of one of them. Then another. There were about twenty strewn about, and by the time I had read the title of the tenth, Draco cleared his throat from behind me.

"Books for my bookworm," he told me with a shrug and grin. It's a bit idiotic to cry over something so simple, but I did anyway. All the books were ones that he had heard me "complain about" (his words) for nearly a year —books so rare that, to my dismay, I had never been able to find. I didn't know that he'd been truly listening.

A Malfoy or not. Curse or not. Draco is…a wonderful person.

July 24th, 2008

As I write this, Draco's burning a body.

I don't know how quite to feel about this one, though. Granted, any guilt that I should be feeling had been eradicated long ago. I can freely admit now that killing is a necessary pleasure that gives rise to euphoria, and I don't feel sorry for engaging in it. It's the "foreplay," so-to-speak, that comes before it that makes me uneasy. While that, too, is pleasurable in itself —unadulterated, as Draco had once called it, —it's always been accompanied with some sort of insanity first, whether it be me or Draco. This time, however, there wasn't any.

We had been home and had just finished dinner. I was washing dishes when Draco came up beside me, leaned against the counter and simply said, "Let's get messy." Not a drop of context, but I knew exactly what he meant. It led to a similar lure of a poor, unfortunate soul back to our home where he was killed in a joint and, certainly messy, affair on our grounds.

Are we becoming more vicious? Or do we simply seek enjoyment any way we can?

October, 8th, 2008

Narcissa is dropping not-so-subtle hints about grandchildren. Draco is tempted to put a curse on the word so that his mother would stop with the badgering, but it's only because she is his mother, that he hasn't. Instead, he's enlisted his father's help to calm her. I know he's certainly in no hurry for a grandchild of muggleborn heritage, and so the task is probably a delight *cue dramatic eyeroll.*

December 17th, 2008

I hate myself. Even after all of this time I still have Wimbly as a house elf. I'm going to hell.

January 10th, 2009

I told Draco that I loved him today, and while that's nothing new, today I felt like I meant it.

We'll be married for a full two years come May.

April 27th, 2009

Three months shy of a full year since Draco and I killed anyone. Oh, the temptation has been there, but the need to be cautious outweighed it. Tonight, however, caution was thrown to the wind.

We were hosting a dinner with Draco's parents. They, unfortunately, brought an uninvited guest. He was a lesser known Death Eater, but one nonetheless. I knew that he didn't rank very highly on the Ministry's most wanted list, and so not a complete disaster. Draco, of course, was livid, and it didn't help that the extra dinner guest was clearly not a fan of mine.

It didn't take long for the blood vessel in Draco's neck to throb —a clear sign that catastrophe was destined to strike. It took until halfway through the dinner for him to lose it, and Draco took a page out of Harry's old book —or Snape's rather —and I watched as blood began to seep through our guest's clothes as he was ripped apart at the table.

Naturally, Lucius and Narcissa were horrified, but they should've known better. Or perhaps they did. Past their shock, I saw discrete smiles on their faces as though they had enjoyed the show. It was a look that I was familiar with, for both Draco and I have been under the influence of nonchalant joy in the past. It was after the body was disposed of that I confronted them.

"You brought him for entertainment, didn't you?" I asked Narcissa. She had answered yes almost immediately, and while part of me was disgusted at the ploy, another part of me dismissed it. It had certainly livened up what would otherwise had been a dull evening.

September 23rd, 2009

Hermione took a deep breath. She had had her quill hovering over her journal for the past ten minutes, but just couldn't bring herself to write in it. It wasn't for fear —Merlin no. She was actually quite happy. There was some silly part of her was antagonizing her. What if she had one it wrong? What if it was simply incorrect? What if something horrible happened along the way? Her paranoia and anxiety just didn't want anything to happen to erase and take away from the joyous moment she was (finally) writing down, and nullify it.

I'm pregnant.

Author's note: BABIES! That is all. Although, I kind of wished I had written that dinner with Lucius and Narcissa out, but there'll be other scenes with them and a few...interesting ones lol.

Thanks for reading and I hope everyone is staying safe! :)

-WP