Chapter 1 - The Debt

"You shall not be swayed?" He eyed his wife warily, knowing the answer yet fervently hoping against hope his wife had recovered her senses.

"Lucius." Her voice was low, speaking his name as the warning it was.

"Cissa. He's our future. I'm simply.."

"Enough! I stood idly by while you dragged our son into that ridiculous error in judgement. You are exceedingly lucky the Minister pardoned us for *your* crimes. If my son had spent a single moment in Azkaban you would be wishing for The Kiss before I was done with you."

"Our son." Lucius Malfoy hissed inadvertently, cringing slightly at the wrath in his words.

"Do not test me, Lucius." Narcissa Malfoy cross her arms, exposing the pale skin below her elbows. Her sky blue robes clung suggestively to her figure, belying her age. She glowered at her husband, pacing the minuscule enclosed space within the Ministry of Magic.

Lucius Malfoy knew his wife proved a valid point. It was his fault their family was slowly reintegrating themselves into society. It was his fault they were still scorned and even treated poorly in social situations by those once considered friend.

He had blindly followed The Dark Lord. It was his wife and child who had changed his mind. The very idea of them ceasing to exist due to a warped ideology made him physically ill. He had quickly abandoned his support of The Dark Lord, thankful they managed to escape with their lives.

"Cissa, my darling, my love, I would.."

"You cannot tempt me with your sweet words, Lucius. You both agreed to my terms. We are quite fortunate the Minister for Magic passed this particular Marriage Law as well as informing us prior to it being enacted. Could you imagine if we were informed by owl? Draco would be forced to choose from the dregs of society! Fortunately, Minister Shacklebolt is quite attached to the treats Mimsy bakes. So what if I use that to our advantage? I *am* a Malfoy. We have a very talented house elf. We have an incredibly brilliant son, who has forgiven you your transgressions. Why should he not have the very best wife the wizarding world has to offer?" Narcissa's long peach fingernails tapped the edge of the mahogany test wedged into the corner of the tiny office.

"Of course he deserves the best!" Lucius huffed, irked by the very idea he would deign to believe his son deserved less. "However, her, Cissa?" He couldn't contain the curl of his lip, riddled with disdain. Narcissa smiled, her lush lips sliding across her pearly white teeth.

"I can work with her. She's a lovely girl. We've met for tea a few times. She *does* work at the Ministry. She and Draco seem to have a working relationship. Slightly strained, if I'm perfectly honest, yet that's neither here nor there. She's perfect for him, if you do not take her blood into account, which we shall certainly not. I never did care for your ideologies, Lucius. Our son is a spoiled prat. I love him, of course I do, yet he needs a strong willed witch. He requires a witch who will not cater to his demands. One who will stand up to him in the face of his idiocy. Don't look at me like that Lucius. She's the only witch to ever stand up to our son." Narcissa dared him to antagonize her further.

"What of her? Does she not deserve love?" Lucius choked on the word, solidifying his decidedly Malfoy façade. Narcissa searched his pale eyes for the slightest hint of truth.

"Lucius. He's perfect for her really. He'll challenge her intellectually. He'll infuriate her, yet he'll be kind to her, eventually. He'll love her long before he realises he does. She won't believe him in the least, for when have you ever known our son to care about anyone besides himself? He's a bit selfish. She loves a challenge. What better challenge than our son?" Narcissa pecked her husband's cool cheek with red lips and an easy smile.

"She'll agree to this then?" Lucius couldn't resist posing the question. He was having difficulty formulating his opinion on the matter. He agreed with his wife yet also disagreed. It was more than a blood issue. She wasn't raised in pure blood society. She didn't know how to hold herself, how to engage in conversations laced with barely concealed threats. Narcissa was a formidable teacher, yet how willing would she be to accept the tutelage.

"She owes Dumbledore a life debt."

"That old fool is dead." Narcissa's eyes flicked to the door, her head tilted slightly, listening to the murmurs outside the office.

"She's an honorable girl. Shacklebolt is having the letter delivered to her now." Narcissa fiddled with her string of pearls.

"I'm going to assume our son is delivering the very missive which will alter the poor girl's life forever." Lucius flicked his long pale hair over his shoulder, his face set in stone.

"Oi, Potter. Where's Granger? Shacklebolt has me playing bloody owl." Draco Malfoy burst into Harry Potter's office unceremoniously. Harry's green eyes never left the piece of parchment before him. He ignored the tall, willowy blonde as he plopped into an armchair. He ground his teeth as Draco's feet kicked over the quills set on the edge of his desk.

"Malfoy, must you? I'm bloody busy." Harry growled rereading the same line several times.

"Did you hear Shacklebolt is trying to get a bloody Marriage Law passed?" Draco inquired, easily ignoring Harry's irritation with his presence. Harry groaned, shoving the parchment away and crossing his arms. He was used to such interruptions.

While Harry Potter would not consider Draco Malfoy a friend the way he considered Ron Weasley, they had an easy rapport. Try as Harry might, he knew it wasn't limited to a work relationship. He simply couldn't hate the spoiled, obscenely rich man. Harry knew Draco Malfoy didn't need to work. The Malfoy fortune was well known throughout the wizarding community, and yet Draco chose to work for the Ministry, as an Auror no less. He knew Draco's true interest lied in Curse Breaking, but he refused to leave his position until the last of Voldemort's Death Eaters were safely ensconced in Azkaban. Harry respected that, but he'd never admit it to anyone besides his wife.

"A Marriage Law? Good thing, I've already a wife then eh? You on the other hand..." Harry smothered his laughter upon seeing the decidedly green pallor to Draco's face.

"Technically you stole my wife. I didn't want her, but that changes nothing. I could petition the Wizengamot for the acclaimed Harry Potter to return the bride bequeathed to Draco Malfoy..."

"Shut it." Harry tried, with much difficulty to maintain his scowl, yet it faltered slightly, causing them to laugh heartily.

"Could you imagine Stori's face?!" Draco guffawed loudly, clutching his sides.

"You fucking ferret." Harry removed his round glasses, cleaning them on his red tshirt.

"Oi. Scarboy. I've told you to stop calling me a bloody ferret." Draco grumbled, shuddering slightly in remembrance. "Fucking Impostor Moody."

"Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?"

"You have terrible hearing, Potter. I need Granger." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Stori's been saying that for years. Finally realise you fancy her?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows, antagonizing Draco.

"Fuck you. Shacklebolt wants me to hand deliver this." Draco pulled a sealed envelope from the inner folds of his robes, waving it in Harry's face.

"That's Dumbledore's seal. What is it?"

"He didn't bloody say. I didn't ask. He said and I quote 'Malfoy. Give this to Granger. Your parents are in the receiving office.' Then he left. Therefore, I'm looking for Granger and taking as long as possible to avoid my bloody parents."

"They're not that bad, Malfoy. Well, your mother isn't that bad. Your father..."

"Can suck it." Draco huffed, scowling.

"You've been watching too many telly programs again. Hermione is where she always is. I don't know why you even bother to ask." Harry shoved parchment into his desk drawer, locking it quickly and standing.

"Ugh. Why is she in the bloody archives? Oh never mind, it's the closest thing to a library we have." Draco heaved himself to his feet, shoving the letter back into his pocket. Harry shrugged. He hadn't a clue what Hermione had been working on the past few months. Knowing her as he did, it was probably related to saving some sort of Magical Creature.

"C'mon. I'll go with you. Stori wants me to invite you idiots for dinner this weekend." Harry and Draco walked through the halls of the Ministry together, ignoring the furtive glances and barely concealed whispers. They were used to such antics after working together the past few years.

"Is Weasel going to be there? I bloody refuse if he's coming. Last time was a bloody disaster." Draco might have had an amicable relationship with Harry Potter, but Ron Weasley was an entirely different story.

Ron refused to let bygones be bygones. He was still convinced Draco Malfoy was working undercover at the Ministry for the sake of gathering information for the few remaining Death Eaters. He proclaimed his hatred of the young Malfoy loudly and often.

"Stori said he's not bloody welcome in our home after his antics last time. I can't believe he hexed you in the middle of dinner. You didn't help matters any. You know how he is, especially where Mione is concerned."

"I touched her bloody hair! I didn't shag her on the table. Weasel has issues." Harry sighed, maneuvering around a small gathering of Auror Trainees.

"It's the same thing to him. He's completely deluded where she's concerned. He still believes she's going to take him back and they're going to live happily ever after." Harry pushed through the door leading to the Archives, lighting the lamps on the wall with his wand.

"Over my dead body." Draco grumbled, following Harry around the stacks of files to the small office in the back.

"I knew you fancied her." Harry snickered, his hand on the door knob.

"Shut it."

"You didn't deny it. Wait until I tell Stori." Draco mumbled under his breath something which sounded suspiciously like 'bloody gossip' as Harry shoved the door open, startling Hermione Granger.
She was surrounded by piles of files, her curly brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. There were smudges of dirt on her cheeks and across her forehead.

"Tell Stori what, Harry?" Hermione's eyes never left the thick tome on the small desk. Draco kicked Harry in the shin, a warning flashing in his dark grey eyes.

"Oh, er, that you and Malfoy are going to accept her dinner invitation."

"Ron's not invited then? If he is, I'm not bloody going. He was a right git last time." Hermione bottom lip protruded as she puffed a light blast of air toward the escaped curls on her forehead.

"That's what I bloody said." Draco Malfoy crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest wall. Harry mumbled under his breath, something along the lines of them being perfect for each other, which earned him another sound shin kick.

"Hello, Malfoy." Hermione slammed the tome shut, wiping her dusty hands on her Muggle jeans, her robes thrown haphazardly across the chair behind her. Harry rolled his eyes at the light flush across Hermione's cheeks upon looking up at Draco.

"So, Granger. When are you going to marry me?" Draco winked, while Harry coughed, which sounded suspiciously like 'idiots'.

"Oh, next week." She laughed, embracing Harry quickly. "What brings you both down here? Very important Auror research?"

"It's my half birthday, I want my present." Harry pretended to slam his head into the wall.

Harry was amazed the brightest witch and brilliant wizard were this clueless. It was obvious they were attracted to each other. It was also obvious they enjoyed irritating each other, almost as if their arguments were a twisted sort of foreplay, but Harry knew better than to mention such things ever again. The one time he had actually tried to broach the subject, they had both jinxed him. It had taken him days to recover from the engorgement. He shuddered, instinctively covering his assets.

Draco Malfoy had applied to the Auror program six months after Harry had begun. He was surprised when Draco was accepted, considering his actions prior to the war, but his family had made a valiant effort to cooperate with any and all investigations. It definitely didn't hurt that The Boy Who Lived and the Gryffindor Princess vouched for him.

Hermione had shrugged and said Draco Malfoy deserved redemption as much as anyone. Shortly after such a statement, Hermione and Ron's pseudo relationship dissolved into civility. In the spirit of acceptance she had purchased Draco a small gift and left it on his new desk. Harry remembered Draco staring at the gaily wrapped present in awe, almost afraid to touch it.

"Just open it Malfoy." Harry had found himself partnered with the former Death Eater. The sooner the git opened the gift, the sooner they could go out on assignment.

"Why would she give me anything?" Harry had to lean over to hear the soft spoken words. It occurred to him, Draco might never have received a gift before. He recalled the first year he had discovered presents under the tree for Yule.

"It's just something she does. She probably gave you the same thing she gave me. Just open it already." Draco fingered the red and gold wrapping, not even sneering at the obvious Gryffindor colours, which impressed Harry immensely. Draco shoved it across the small desk his eyes never rising.

"You do it." Harry scoffed, but pulled the gold ribbon off the box, raising the lid and smiling. Draco snatched the open box, peering inside. He tilted his head, a half smile on his lips.

"She charms them. Takes quite a bit of time. Ron doesn't even have one. They're to send messages. Quite a bit faster than owls and interoffice memos." Draco lifted the Golden Snitch out of the box, holding it tight.

"It's not even Yule.." Draco looked up to see a nervous Hermione Granger standing in the doorway, chewing her bottom lip. Harry watched Draco's eyes soften, though he still found the half smile slightly disconcerting.

"No, but it's your half-birthday." Harry had spun, glancing between Hermione and Draco, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Somehow, over the past four years it had become their private tradition. Harry's wife, Astoria thought it was completely adorable, to his chagrin.

"It's upstairs in my office. Your half-birthday is not until tomorrow." Hermione smirked, grabbing her robes. "Why are you lot here?"

"Malfoy's been demoted to office owl." Hermione frowned, her brown eyes flicking between Harry and Draco in confusion. Draco thrust the letter into her hands, ignoring the tingle in his fingers as they brushed across hers.

"Shacklebolt demanded I deliver this to you." Hermione ignored them, ripping open the letter. She gasped, closing her eyes.

"Mione?" Harry plucked the parchment from between her rigid fingers. Draco stood just behind him, peering over his shoulder.

"You're going to have to bloody explain this, Granger." Hermione nodded, backing into the chair behind her, taking deep cleansing breaths.

"I owe Dumbledore." Draco pulled the door closed behind him, deciding they needed privacy for such revelations.

"Owe him what? All the letter says is 'Remember'." Harry kneeled in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her knees. She took the parchment back from him, holding it tightly.

"My parents aren't dead, Harry. They're in Australia. I left them there. They're so bloody happy now. Dumbledore knew Voldemort and his Death Eaters were going to come after me. Especially after we decided to hunt horcruxes. Dumbledore said it was only a matter of time. He suggested I send them away, for safety. You remember Gilderoy Lockhart. He was quite accomplished in memory charms. Dumbledore promised he would teach me a particularly complicated memory charm so that when the war was over, I could retrieve them. He would only ask one favour. A favour I would not be allowed to deny him. I agreed of course, they're my parents. I didn't want them to die in the midst of a wizarding war. Dumbledore and Shacklebolt were present. Dumbledore wrote down the terms, we signed and Shacklebolt witnessed it. Dumbledore said it would be best for Shacklebolt to hold onto our little magical contract in the event something happened to him. It was Charmed to only say 'Remember'. If it fell into the wrong hands, no one would know what they were holding..."

"Sort of like the Marauder's Map." Harry nodded.

"Now what? Shacklebolt is holding you to it?" Draco interjected, trying to understand exactly what Hermione was saying.

"Yes and no. It's magic. I caught bits and parts of their conversation before they called me in. Dumbledore and Shacklebolt were speaking about the survival of the wizarding war. It didn't matter who won or lost, in the end, the wizarding world was going to be decimated. They were discussing the potential for a Marriage Law. I didn't understand the power I was giving them then. I understand it now of course, but it's too late." Hermione drew a shaky breath, refusing to look in Draco's direction. He disliked the unexpected pang of hurt.

"You can read the letter, can't you? I can only see 'Remember' but you know exactly what it says don't you?" Hermione was thankful that Harry Potter was still as intuitive as he'd always been. She nodded slowly, her breath hitching.

"What does it say?" Hermione squeezed her eyes tight, the parchment shaking between her fingers as she held it out, not to Harry but to Draco. Draco looked to Harry for confirmation, but Harry only shrugged. With tentative fingers, he took the parchment in his hands, feeling the hum of magic course through it. He gasped as the words appeared, covering the page.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think..I didn't think it would ever come to this. I was sure. I was young and stupid and..."

"You were saving your parents Hermione. If I could have saved mine, I would have done the same thing. Malfoy?" Harry's comforting words were drowned out by Draco Malfoy's laughter.
His head was thrown back while he shook the singular sheet of parchment, laughing. Harry had never heard him laugh before and found it a bit terrifying.

"I gave my mother, my sneaky, manipulative, very Slytherin mother, complete control of my future bride in exchange for my inheritance and the freedom to reside wherever the fuck I wished to live. She signed this, you realise this Granger? It never would have been binding without her signature as well."

"WILL SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" Harry wanted to shake both of them. He was completely infuriated. It wasn't often he wasn't privy to the inner workings of Hermione Granger's mind. He decided he most definitely did not enjoy being on the outside looking in.

"Harry..."

"Oi. Potter. Stori gets her wish. Excuse me, my parents are in the building. I need to hex them. Immediately. Granger, we'll speak later. Dinner?" Hermione nodded, expecting Draco Malfoy's fury, not his laughter. Draco swept from the room quickly, his clipped steps fading down the corridor.

"Mione? C'mon then. Let's go back to my office and you can explain.."

"Oh Harry, there's nothing to explain. Apparently, I'm marrying Draco Malfoy."

Kingsley Shacklebolt grit his teeth while entering the confined space holding the Malfoys. If he was being honest with himself, he never expected the Wizengamot to agree to the passage of such a law. He believed it to be abominable if he was being honest with himself.

He had never imagined a late night rendezvous with Albus Dumbledore and Hermione Granger would result in unlikely pairings for the continuation of the wizarding world. He had only agreed to such irrevocable binding magic for the sake of the young Gryffindor's parents. She was quite desperate to keep them safe. He should have known better. The twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes should have been the clue which had him refusing. Part of him wondered if that was Dumbledore's plan all along.

Dumbledore had always had a soft spot for Hermione Granger. He had believed in the inner goodness of Draco Malfoy when no one else believed it to exist. Shacklebolt rolled his eyes with chagrin, realising Dumbledore was absolutely correct in his assessment of the young Malfoy. Now, to add more madness, Narcissa Malfoy had become involved, which was still quite confusing as far as he was concerned.

How on earth did her magical signature wind up on their contract? Had Dumbledore scurried away in the dead of night and present his case? How had he convinced the matriarch of the Malfoy family to acquiesce to his demand of adding a Muggle-born witch to their pure-blood lines? It was enough to drive any wizard toward a padded room in St Mungos, if they even had such a thing. Shacklebolt made a mental note to ask about such things, in the event everything backfired and he found himself on the wrong end of an Inquisitorial Squad.

"Mrs Malfoy, lovely to see you." Kingsley lied, forcing a grimace into a smile. He blotted the light sheen of sweat across his chocolate brow.

"Oh, Kingsley, we're all adults here." Kingsley gulped. He gestured toward the small pile of parchment dangling on the edge of the desk.

"Where is my son?" Lucius spat, refusing the offered chair with a snarl of derision.

"He should arrive momentarily. Unless of course, Ms Granger has hexed him into oblivion." The Minister for Magic ignored Lucius Malfoy's posturing, used to his antics.

"That would certainly save us a bit of trouble, wouldn't it?" Lucius smirked, earning him a warning glare from his wife and a snort from Shacklebolt.

"I'm quite certain your wife begs to differ. Ms Granger is quite an accomplished witch. Even you Lucius would not be able to refute such facts.." The pounding on the thick door interrupted him succinctly.

"Enter." Kingsley closed his eyes, prepared for a barrage of angry questions from the tall pale wizard bursting through the door. He was pleasantly surprised to see the wizard's anger directed toward his mother instead. Shacklebolt inspected the yellow paisley design on his robes, ignoring the barely concealed air of rage.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Don't deny it, Mother. This bloody reeks of your meddling." Draco Malfoy shook his wand directly in his mother's face, knowing she detested it.
Narcissa had always chided him for his manners, yet this time was an exception. Her dark blue eyes narrowed significantly, as her son bellowed. She plucked invisible threads from her dark blue robes before sinking into a rigid wooden chair.

"I'm simply exercising the power you bequeathed to me. At the time you were more than willing to, what was it you said? Oh yes, sign away your very soul for the same rights every witch and wizard has. That was it, wasn't it? Draco, were they not given to you? I have not hounded you to return to the Manor, nor have I sent you copious amounts of owls forcing introductions to witches which would be nothing other than a passing fancy. So, what happens to be the problem?" Narcissa smiled serenely, observing her son's cheeks flush lightly, in anger and embarrassment if she were to guess.

"Father.." Lucius laughed at his son's antics.

"Draco, my boy, you failed to consult me prior to allowing your mother these liberties. What is it they say? Those Muggles...oh yes, you've made your bed, now lie in it." Lucius arched a dark blonde eyebrow at his son as he settled beside his wife.

"I'm fucking screwed." Shacklebolt cleared his throat noisily, looking behind Draco. Draco spun to see a very angry Gryffindor Princess clutching the edges of the letter he'd delivered.

"You unbelievable bastard. Always thinking about yourself, aren't you bloody wanker. Yes, you're screwed. Never mind the unfortunate witch who's apparently going to be tied to you for the rest of her miserable life, but it's all about you isn't it Malfoy? You're still a conceited, arrogant, pompous..." Her dark brown eyes flicked toward Narcissa and Lucius, who were engaged in a fevered conversation in whispers.

"Enough with the synonyms Granger.." Draco Malfoy was accustomed to Hermione's outbursts. He leaned across the small space and snatched the brandished wand from her nimble fingers.

"I hate you!" Hermione shouted before turning on her heel to escape the stifling room. She was halfway down the corridor before Draco caught her.

"Granger. Granger. Stop hitting me and listen, would you?" Hermione kicked her legs, her arms swinging toward his face before she found herself tumbling into an empty office. She righted herself quickly, angry tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"He took away my choices! Fucking Marriage Law? Ridiculous!" Draco closed the door, leaning against it, allowing Hermione to rage. He was mildly surprised by her language, but he supposed the circumstances depicted the necessity.

"Oh sure, poor Hermione Granger. No one will ever love such a bloody know-it-all. She's terribly plain, haven't you heard? Hasn't a bloody lick of sexuality. I'm surprised Ron Weasley dated her, he could do so much better. She's nothing. She's not capable of holding a conversation that doesn't revolve around books. Can you believe she works at the Ministry? Would have thought the library would be better suited for her. She doesn't need anyone. Does she even have friends? Well, there's Harry Potter, but he's only friends with her because he feels sorry for her. You remember how absolutely horrid she was in Hogwarts. She's only a Mudblood, not worthy of any wizard. The sooner she faces that..."

"Granger. Stop it." Draco had never heard her rail against herself before and he never wanted to again. It made him wonder who had done this to her. She was the strongest witch he'd ever known, but apparently even the mighty crumble.

"Why? Why should I? I'm sure you've heard it all, Malfoy. I'm sure you've said it as well. I should have said yes to Ron. I'd be bloody miserable, but it's better than taking you down with me." Hermione's shoulders sagged, her hands covering her face as the sobs wracked through her.
Before he could stop himself, Draco crossed the worn carpet and gathered her into his arms. It wasn't something they had done before, but he knew in that moment she needed someone. Hermione melted against him, her fingernails digging into his forearms, her curls brushing against his chin.

In that moment, Draco Malfoy decided perhaps holding a witch was not as revolting as he once believed. He had shagged his fair share of witches, more than his fair share, yet he had never held a woman. Never allowed them to trap him in their magically weaved web of seduction. He was smart enough to realise the sort of witches he attracted were only interested in his name and his riches. They were perfectly suit for his passing fancy, but anything more than that, made him shudder in revulsion. He took them home, impressed them with his charm, shagged them senseless and always made sure they went home before morning.

Draco curved his arms around her back, pressing slightly. He felt uncomfortable feeling the curves of her body against him. He had never given actual thought to the feel of Hermione Granger's body and now wasn't the time to start.

"C'mon Granger. You're making me soggy. It'll be alright." He tried to sound aloof, but it was the last thing he was feeling.

"Right. Sorry. Of course. I shouldn't...I'll just.."

"Granger. Shut up. Did anyone ever tell you, you talk too much? And now you're thinking. You always chew your lip to shreds when you're thinking or nervous. Ridiculous."

"Why aren't you angry?" Hermione pushed away from his hard chest, realising how close they were. She grabbed her unruly curls and tied them into a messy bun at the nape of her neck.

"Why would I be angry?" Draco's nose crinkled as the scent of musty books wafted through the air. He wondered if her scent was always reminiscent of a graveyard for books and shuddered slightly.

"Oh please, Malfoy. Did you even read the bloody thing? I'm sure being strapped with a Mudblood bride is going to absolutely thrill your multiple companions."

"Granger. I'll have you know I highly dislike derogatory terms. I will not have my future wife refer to herself in such a fashion. It's completely unbecoming. I expected better of you frankly." Draco sniffed, his aristocratic nose held loftily in the air.

"As if you've never spoken such words?!" Hermione's hands clenched into fists of rage. If they weren't down the corridor from the Minister for Magic, she would have punched him, repeatedly, in the face.
"My darling Granger, those times are long since passed. Surely you cannot hold childish prejudices against me. One would think Hermione Granger, war heroine was incapable of forgiveness."

"You're being difficult on purpose. You wouldn't be attempting to goad me if you had read the document."

"I read enough. I don't understand why you're so determined to be upset about this. It's obvious there's nothing we can do about it. The joys of magic, I suppose. Nothing really needs to change. We get married and go about with our lives." He shrugged, not seeing the problem.

He would of course have to inform Nadia. She was becoming a bit too attached for his taste. Draco found himself relishing the idea of breaking the news of his impending marriage to the Russian model. He knew she had plenty of her own money, but there was something about her he found off putting. Perhaps it was the simple fact; his father had taken to gushing about her. Of course Lucius would consider Nadia the perfect Malfoy bride.

"You're an idiot. I never would have suspected. Well, that's not entirely true, I had an inkling such idiocy had taken up residence somewhere around third year, but now I'm absolutely sure. However did you manage? It must have been difficult to find minions below your intellect. It truly is wonderful Slytherin was able to accommodate you..."

"Granger. You're rambling and being quite rude as well. Is there a point to this?" Hermione growled, giving Draco a shove. She smiled in facetious satisfaction, as he stumbled into the corner of wayward desk. She slammed the contract into his chest and spun across the room.

"Go about with our lives? How are we supposed to manage that Malfoy? We have to live together. We have to bloody consummate our marriage. We have to procreate. Oh, are you bloody paying attention now? If we violate the terms? ANY of the terms? Our bloody wands get snapped. You'd think it wouldn't matter to me so much, considering I'm only a Muggle-born witch but I haven't anyone outside of the wizarding community. I suppose I could move to Australia. I wouldn't be able to reverse the Memory Charm on my parents, but I suppose I could be friends with them. That's better than nothing. Oh. I'd miss Harry. Ron wouldn't be that big a loss, he's such a git. Oh my gods, Luna, Ginny, Stori. This is bloody miserable." Hermione backed into the wall, disregarding the peeling wallpaper and slid to the floor. She bent her knees and flopped her head across her arms.

Draco had tuned out most of her ranting while perusing the document. He skipped most of the legal jargon in favour of finding a way to skirt around the regulations. He suddenly felt weak in the knees. The very idea of his wand being snapped, forced to live as a bloody Muggle was enough for all the blood to drain from his face.

"We're the bloody face of the Marriage Law? Ridiculous." Draco mumbled to himself, while Hermione sniffed into her hair.

"Wait until you read..."

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

"There it is.." Hermione sighed and lifted her head. She wondered what Dumbledore was thinking drafting such an iron clad contract. She was the first to admit, when it came to her old Headmaster, she didn't understand most of his reasonings. In what world would Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Narcissa Malfoy agree on the binding of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, for life?
"It's for bloody life. I can't believe it. I've never come across such a thing. Even my parent's contract had a clause they could enact after the passing of five years and an heir. Why the fuck did you sign this Granger? I thought you were smarter than this." Draco shook the parchment, instantly feeling a bit guilty for the abject misery etched across her face.

"It was blank. I-I mean, it had all those stipulations, but the name of the intended was left blank. I assumed it was because Dumbledore wanted to choose him at a later time or...I honestly don't know. I was desperate. You have to understand that, Malfoy. You were a bloody Death Eater charged with murdering Dumbledore for the sake of your mother. You would have done anything for her, I understand that. Perhaps that's why I could bloody forgive you much easier than Harry or anyone else for that matter. I understand the bloody desperation that makes one choose a completely illogical path for the sake of their loved ones." Draco found his mouth opening and closing a few times before he gave up.
She was right. As much as he hated to admit it, the little Gryffindor Princess was right. He would have done anything for his mother. He couldn't fault Hermione for choosing her loved ones.

"Alright, Granger. Come along then. There's obviously nothing we can do about it. Might as well go back to Shacklebolt and suss out the details. We'll get..married.." Hermione ignored the way Draco choked on the word. She allowed him to pull her to her feet and wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"We're sort of friends. It shouldn't be too difficult. We'll produce an heir and well, perhaps after that we'll be able to find some sort of happiness with other people. We won't be able to marry them of course but, Granger, stop shaking your head. What's the problem now?" Hermione pushed passed him and snatched the discarded piece of parchment from the threadbare carpet.

"Here. Right here." Hermione poked the bottom of the page with a shaking finger. Draco peered at the tiny handwriting, recognising his mother's elegant scrawl.

"Oh, of course. My bloody mother would do that to me."

"Yes, Malfoy, it's all about you. Didn't bother to consider me at all, did you? Maybe there's someone I've been seeing. Obviously, I'd have to break it off, no question. I never thought Dumbledore would do this..."

"Did you read this? This is my mother's handiwork. 'In the event of unintentional relations, i.e. inebriation, each party will submit to questioning by Veritaserum.' She disgusts me.."

"I-I'm sorry. I never intended..I didn't think.."

"Stop apologising. Whatever are you apologising for? You didn't write this. You were saving your parents, even a right bastard like me can understand that." Draco sighed, raking his fingers through his unruly hair.

"I'm sorry you're stuck with the likes of me." Draco watched Hermione fold in herself, as if she were trying to make herself disappear. He was absolutely furious, but not with Hermione. It wasn't her fault, not really. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Even if she had known Dumbledore's intentions, he knew she would have signed it anyway. There aren't limits when it comes to your loved ones.

"Well, someone's obviously done quite a number on you Granger. You must tell me all about it over dinner. Let's reschedule the bloody meeting. Theo's throwing me a half-birthday costume party tomorrow. Should be bloody delightful. You'll come with me." Draco held out his hand, waiting for her to accept it. Her fingers were surprisingly cold as they slid across his palm.

"That's probably not the best idea."

"Rescheduling the meeting or coming to my party?" He tugged her toward the door lightly.

"Both? Uhm, well, it's going to come out eventually, might as well be now. I broke things off with Ron over a year ago. I'm sure you already know that, but uhm, I've been..seeing Theo." Draco squeezed her hand lightly, resisting the urge to laugh at the obvious tension in her stance.

"I've been seeing a Russian model. She's a bit dim, but pleasant I suppose. I'll send her an owl and call the whole thing off. Theo won't pose a problem. He usually has a few girls on the hook at a time and..shit, I'm sorry Granger, I didn't mean.."

"It's fine Malfoy. I didn't expect exclusivity." Hermione opened the door and peaked into the corridor, prepared to step out when Draco yanked her hand.

"Why not?" Hermione frowned at his curiousness.

They had been working together for years and had never really ventured into discussions of their private lives. Their banter drove Harry batty, which was part of the reason they continued such antics. Hermione had simply considered it a work relationship. There were plenty of witches and wizards she had an amicable relationship with at work, but once the work day was over or their jobs changed, so was their relationship.

"How long would it take you, Malfoy, to venture on toward greener pastures when the witch you're dating never allows anything beyond a simple snog?" Draco pretended to contemplate the question, knowing he'd never see the imaginary more than two or three times.

"I suppose, I'd take her out a few times..alright fine, I'd take her out twice and…wait. Are you saying you've never? You've dated a fair amount of blokes. Krum, Weasley, Wood, that other Weasley and apparently Nott and you've never?"

"Ten points for Slytherin." Hermione curled her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting for the backlash, which never came.

"Well now I'm bloody curious! Fancy to tell me why?"

"Malfoy," Hermione sighed dramatically, "Meeting. Drinks. Dinner. Party. By the end of the night, you'll wish you never asked me anything at all."

"Granger's never shagged. Well, that's going to bloody change." Hermione ignored the mumblings behind her, a deep flush rising to her cheeks as she pulled him into the hall. They walked back toward the receiving office in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"It's alright, Potter, they're back." Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed in relief, dismissing one of his best Aurors. His eyes narrowed when Harry Potter nodded curtly yet didn't leave. Some semblance of a smile danced on the corners of Narcissa Malfoy's lips as she spied her son's hand entwined with the Muggle-born witches. Lucius snorted in derision, yet to the amazement of all present, he refrained from comment.

"I'll be back in a moment." Draco whispered against Hermione's temple, giving her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it. "Oi, Potter. Can I have a word?"

"What happens now?" Narcissa instantly moved forward to stand beside the forlorn witch. Draco and Harry exited quickly, their nondescript murmurs ignored.

Lucius cast Hermione furtive glances as she willed the tears to dissipate. Even he had to admit she was a pretty girl. She wasn't a particularly flashy witch and her wardrobe definitely needed an upgrade, but he supposed if his son was being forced into matrimony, he could do worse.

"Ms Granger, it's not necessary to uhm, well, I only mean, we could wait until.." Hermione arched her eyebrows at the Minister.

"Honestly Minister. Wait for what exactly? It's clear as day that Malfoy and I are to be the proverbial poster children for your ridiculous Marriage Law, which is incredibly demeaning, but that's neither here nor there. I'm here. Malfoy is here. His parents are here. I can't claim to comprehend exactly what you and Dumbledore were thinking. Perhaps instead of hemming and hawing over things which we cannot change, you can answer my bloody question." Once again, Lucius found himself begrudgingly impressed with Hermione Granger.

"Alright then, Ms. Granger. At this point, I'd take a few moments to explain the fine points, however I believe that will not be necessary. You and Mr Malfoy must pick a wedding date prior to the fourteenth of February. A brilliant member of the Wizengamot determined bloody Valentine's Day to be the best day to snuff out the last bit of happiness in people's lives. We'll be announcing your engagement tomorrow, so be prepared for harassment. I'm sure Mrs Mal-Narcissa can offer you some helpful tips to avoid the paparazzi while traveling. The Marriage Law is not simply for Muggle-born witches and wizards; it also encompasses pure-bloods and half-bloods alike, based on genetic compatibility and intelligence. Regardless of Dumbledore's interference in such matters, you would have been matched together..."

"New Years." Draco burst back into the crowded office with Harry in tow before flopping into the chair beside Hermione. "Is that alright?" He turned to Hermione, his eyes searching hers.

"Eve or Day?" Shacklebolt interjected, his quill flitting across the page.

"Day." Hermione and Draco spoke in unison, surprising each other. Narcissa beamed which Harry found quite disconcerting. Lucius curled his lip at The-Boy-Who-Still-Bloody-Lived earning him a cocky smile in return.

"The ring?"

"It's being taken care of." Draco waved his hand, dismissing the grumble escaping his father.

"Alright then. One last bit of business and you can be on your way. This is a standard magical confidentiality agreement. The Ministry and Wizengamot wish to keep the particulars of this union absolutely confidential. There have been some rumbles in the magical community about the legality of such a Marriage Law. Some of the older wizards believe if the community sees your relationship flourishing it'll help ease the discomfort of others. I'm not saying I agree with such antics, however, I've been overruled. Please, just place your wands on the parchment. Your magical signature will suffice. Also. I would take this evening to wrap up any loose ends, as tomorrow is the dawning of a new age. Again." Shacklebolt shook his head, almost feeling a smidgen of pity for Draco Malfoy. He wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of a wand brandished by Hermione Granger.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Harry rubbed his scar, out of habit in moments of irritation. His glances swung between Narcissa and Lucius, who were engaged in some sort of silent argument and Hermione and Draco who stood off to the side, unsure of the direction they should take. Harry watched Hermione nod and hurry down the corridor toward her office.

"What Potter? I have things to do. The Minister has given me a few days to get everything situated. You're going to help me aren't you? It's not as if I can count on bloody Theo and Blaise is on his honeymoon with that crazy harpy."

"Luna is not a crazy harpy. She's just different. What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Harry yanked on the collar of his green tshirt making a mental note to buy shirts in a larger size.

"Walk with me." Draco shoved Harry toward the Floo Network. "Don't forget, Potter. It's Diagon Alley."

"Fuck you, Malfoy! It was ONE time. I'm never telling you anything ever again, you wanker." Draco smirked, stepping into the Floo.

"You made it. Fantastic. Perhaps you're not completely inept after all." Draco guffawed when Harry gave him a bit of a shove. He found his hands filled with layers of purple taffeta, his ears filled with a soul raping familiar screech.

"Draco! Why I never!"

"Don't lie Parkinson." Draco made a bit of a show brushing the soot and what he considered Pansy germs from his robes while Harry smothered his laughter.

Time had not been a friend to Pansy Parkinson. Harry perused her with a critical eye. Her dark eyes were caked with kohl and while she was always a voluptuous witch, she had curves in places where curves did not belong. Her purple dress, while it might have been adorable on a toddler, did her absolutely no justice. It was too short, too tight and showed entirely too much cleavage. He wondered for a moment, what Draco had ever seen in the witch.

"Draco, darling. It's been too long. Have you missed me? Whatever are you doing here?" She batted her long and probably fake eyelashes, raking her long, curved red nails down Draco's chest, pressing her breasts together.

"Get off, Pansy. I need to see a man about a ring." Draco jerked his head, trying to extricate himself from the clutches of Pansy.

"A ring? Don't tell me, Draco Malfoy is actually planning on tying himself down to one witch?" She laughed, yet it sounded forced and waned quickly.

"That's right, Pansy. Planning on popping the question tonight actually. Potter here is along to help me choose the perfect ring from my vault." Draco's steely grey eyes begged Harry to aid him. The vindictive part of Harry, which was still alive and well, wished to see Malfoy squirm his way out of this particular predicament, yet he erred on the side of caution, considering he had to work with the bloke.

"Come along, Malfoy. We're late as it is. You know how she gets when we're not punctual." Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. He wasn't far from the truth. Hermione Granger was a slave driver when it came to punctuality. Considering Draco Malfoy was always 'fashionably late', Harry wondered what it would be like to be a fly on their wall. He smiled to himself, as he considered using his invisibility cloak to spy upon them.

"Who's the lucky witch, Draco? Does she know about your particular habits?" Pansy snarled.

"Not you. Definitely not you. I'm surprised my cock is still attached after going a round with you in fifth year." Draco shuddered, giving Pansy a wide berth.

"It was more than a round Draco Malfoy! You loved me! Whatever slag you're marrying deserves to know exactly what she's getting!" Pansy Parkinson actually stamped her foot in anger, her silver stiletto marring the cobblestone.

"Oh Pansy, you stupid bint. I was a teenage boy. I loved sex. You were more than willing to service me and the rest of our house if I remember correctly. My future wife is under no delusions and you'd do best not to insult her. She's bloody brilliant." Harry was mildly impressed by Draco's declaration.

"I was a virgin. How dare you." Pansy searched the many ruffles of her purple dress searching for her wand when Draco laughed heartily.

"If you were a virgin than Harry Potter loves to be buggered."

"Hey! Don't drag me into this! Come on, Malfoy." Harry held Draco's arm in a firm grip and dragged him away from the fuming witch.

They ambled through the throngs of witches and wizards bustling along Diagon Alley before they found themselves at Gringotts. Harry managed to hold his tongue until they were standing in the midst of Draco Malfoy's personal vault.

"I don't understand why I'm here."

"You're her best friend. If you don't know what she would prefer, than find me someone who does. Apparently, I only get to do this once and I'd like to present her with something in line with her preferences." Draco flicked his wand toward a nondescript cabinet. The drawers flew open exposing row upon row of glittering jewels.

"Did you go into your vault for Stori?" Harry's interest was piqued. He knew his wife loved him, yet a small part of him wondered how serious her relationship had been with Draco Malfoy.

"Jealous Potter?" Draco sneered before he was able to stop himself. It was those pesky Malfoy genes rearing their ugly head to the surface.

"Curious." Harry shrugged, browsing the selection.

"Astoria Greengrass is the equivalent of your Hermione Granger. I love her to death, really, but the very thought of marrying her, made me a bit.."

"Oh yeah, uhm ill?" Harry tried to imagine being told he'd have to marry his best friend and felt the bile rise in his throat.

"The way you're feeling right now? Exactly. Of course, Stori and I aren't as touchy-feely as you bloody Gryffindor's but we've always been close. She fancied you for so bloody long, I threatened to hex her if she didn't do something about it. Enough this nonsense. Nothing in the bottom drawer. I swear those things are cursed, besides the fact they're hideous." Draco slammed the bottom drawer shut violently.

"Which pieces are your favourite?" Harry inquired, shying away from the obviously gaudy pieces.
"I'd love to see her in blue. She's always wearing those hideous earth tones. At least that's what she calls them. They all look like dirt." Harry snorted, eyeing a simple pendant.

"Thought you Slytherin's were supposed to worship green and silver?"

"Ugh, please Potter, after what? Six years of green and silver, I don't want to see my wife wearing those colours."

"You're taking this surprisingly well, Malfoy. No, not that one. Looks like a rainbow threw up." Draco groaned tossing the offending ring back into the drawer.

"What else am I supposed to do, Potter? Throw a bit of a fit? Make her feel worse than she already does? What purpose does that serve? In the end, we'll still be married, might as well face it head on." Draco fingered his favourite family heirloom. He had hidden it in the back of a drawer when Pansy was pressing for a commitment. He vaguely remembered his mother telling him it was his grandmother's. They didn't have many pieces of jewelry from the Black family, but this was one of them. If he remembered correctly there was a matching pendant and bracelet as well.

"In the end, Malfoy, all that's going to matter is that you chose it. At least, that's what Astoria told me when I asked her if she was pleased with the ring."

"She was lying. That thing is fucking horrid. I'm kidding, Potter. She bloody cried when she was telling me about it. You gave her your mother's ring didn't you?" Draco inspected the ring, feeling its weight in his hand.

"I love her. Why wouldn't I give her my mother's ring? That's a lovely piece. Doesn't that pendant match it?" Harry picked up the rope chain with a singular sapphire hanging and smiled. It was elegant, yet slightly understated when one took into account it stemmed from a Malfoy. Hermione would adore it.

"There's a bracelet as well. They were my grandmother's. She was a Black by marriage. Mother always says Grandmum Dru broke the mold by naming her after a flower. She was a fiery witch, at least that's what Mother always said. She never agreed with burning Andromeda and Sirius off the family tapestry." Harry felt a bit strange, standing in Draco's personal vault, listening to him speak of his family. He had never really thought of them as close friends, but it seemed as though the tides were about to change.

"It's a lovely ring, really." Harry knew he didn't know much when it came to jewelry, but it really was a beautiful setting. He only knew it was called a setting because Astoria drilled it into him.

"Platinum. Center cut blue sapphire with diamond accents. I think it's called a raised setting? I don't bloody know. There's magic in this ring, I can feel it. It's simple considering all the other jewels, but it's the simplicity which makes it bloody gorgeous. Help me find the bracelet would you? There's got to be a box around here somewhere."

"Stori was right, wasn't she? You fancy Hermione Granger."

"Potter.." Draco paused, his hands trembling slightly, "don't tell her alright?"