Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.

I own the plot and the plot only

The days grew closer to the nineteenth of September, a day that both Hermione and Draco simply dread. Draco, after getting Pansy and her blank threats out of the way, realized that he was soon going to have to go through with it and marry Granger, a witch whom he once insulted wisely with harsh words till there were visible tears running down her fair face. In his defense, back then she was a whiny, far-too-ambitious little witch with a loud mouth and a noggin that was absolutely too advanced for the witch. It wasn't entirely his fault that her bossy attitude was certainly irritating to the point where he actually pitied both Potter and Weasley to a special extent. But in the end - the past was the past - the platinum blond-haired wizard was one to understand that with a past such as his.

Granger did change after all - though in ways he wasn't technically hoping for. Hermione of course still cared an abundance amount on education, but she grew to be quite relaxed over the years. Despite their recent quarrels and encounters, the witch was rather willing and flexible during important matters as well as tiny, carefree moments. Draco noticed, surprisingly. The blond wizard shook his head dramatically for a moment before rummaging through some of the case files Kingsley had left with him to glance over.

He wanted to take his mind off of Hermione.

He needed to take his mind off of Hermione.

His eyes glowed slightly in curiosity as he held possession of a certain case file with Ronald Bilius Weasley, despite how the file merely stated that the red-head shall be taking control over the mission which contained goblins that had gone horrid, thousands of missing galleons, and a debt that needed to be paid. Malfoy pondered for a moment -

I assume that Granger and Weasley obtained an intimate relationship during the Battle of Hogwarts, he started off, letting his mind play a dainty and dirty little trick on him that would clearly not let him be able to finish his duty. It's obvious they're not together anymore - or else they would have sprung into marriage right when they heard of the barbaric and absolutely atrocious news, instead of letting the other get caught in a web with some other person they'd rather not want to be with.

It frustrated him - for some odd reason. His mother had always complained of how curious he was as a child; coincidentally, the trait continued to stick to him throughout all the years. Draco was just the type of person that was quite incapable of not knowing things, rather they were important, or not. The blond wizard had a thriving passion for knowledge, obviously, which put him in second place when it came to education. One of the main reasons why he loathed Hermione with all his devotion, was because she simply acted like - and was - an infuriating know-it-all.

Malfoy mumbled to himself from time to time while he searched through the documents, making sure not to miss any significant and specific aspects that would come in handy for Kingsley. Draco had to be honest - Kingsley was a true warrior, in the end, the blond rather admired the man and his respected doings. He trusted Draco when others hadn't, and he classified Draco as of an ally, instead of a traitor, nor enemy when others had. Kingsley understood the pressure the wizard was under at one point, due to the Dark Lord - he understood that the people who had a role in The Battle of Hogwarts years ago had as well a decision whether to fight, or cower, while Draco had absolutely no choice.

Draco smiled grimly to himself, scorning himself for bringing back the horrid memories of The Battle of Hogwarts. The recollections still haunted him to the very day - the main reason how he could bring himself to having a peaceful sleep was wine. Glasses of cherry wine. It just seemed to ward off all the flashbacks and nightmares that tend to grasp a hold of Draco's sanity and reality. Over the years, people had not technically forgotten about the battle that killed many beloved people, and most of them were still prejudice - but, with time comes recovery.

Draco no longer received any howlers from random wizards and witches, but there were still the occasional hate mail and threatening letters that merely made him grow pale. They still blamed him for what happened - as if he did have a choice to go against the Dark Lord from the beginning. The blond scoffed to himself. The atmosphere from the battle still hadn't quite died out. People continued to mourn over the deaths over excellent wizards and witches that seemed to have touched their hearts at one point.

The blond wizard was still made out to be a traitor by some magical beings, but that didn't stop him from pursuing a career as an Auror, working alongside with Potter and Weasley who had surprisingly changed over the years just like Draco. They were no longer the stubborn gits that wanted to make Draco's life a living hell. The two wizards had somehow come to an unspoken agreement with him during the days of earning a living among Draco. Neither of them taunted Malfoy anymore, nor did they once call Draco by the name of Ferret (or at least Ron claimed to have not called him that during one of the meetings.)

During the Final Battle of Hogwarts, Draco assumed that his future - if he came out alive - would be absolutely dreadful, mostly with a title such as: Former Deatheater, or Traitor. Draco ran his fingers over the inner part of his forearm, caressing a scar that was once the glowing Dark Mark. His arm felt numbed. He leaned back slightly from his chair, letting his left arm waver over him. Draco stared at it boringly as the light shone more bright than ever, as if the light itself was taunting and mocking him for all his wrong actions. Not decisions.

"How come you never told me you're getting married to Malfoy!" the ginger-haired auror screamed, his sentence sounding more like a mere distress call to express his roaring emotions instead of a question.

"Because I knew you would react exactly like this!" Hermione shrieked back, glaring at her past boyfriend while he merely stared at her with an expression that read: You're kidding, right? - Oh, please tell me you're kidding! "And no, I am not kidding!" she adds. "Why can't you be like Harry and just accept it?" the brown-haired witch sighed, narrowing her eyes at the black-haired auror that sat there besides the quarreling pair, pondering about what to say to break the tension.

"It's the new law created by the Ministry to maintain a well-rounded population in the Wizardry world." Harry finally states, staring intently at Ron - hoping that he would somehow understand that it wasn'tHermione's fault. Nor was it Dra - erm, Malfoy's. "Kingsley explained to me how the Wizarding community has had a decrease of childbirth ever since Voldemort was defeated, which is causing the Ministry - as well as the Minister of Magic, himself - anxiety over the future of the Wizarding society. He lectured me on that when I asked him if there was any way to avoid the law - without marriage, or a sentence to Azkaban."

Hermione stared at Harry with an awed expression for a moment, she was absolutely glad she had a sensible friend like him.

"When's the wedding?" Blaise asked Draco with pure amusement to his tone. He takes a sip of Firewhisky, avoiding the impetuous glare Draco flings at him for purposeful reasons.

"Shut it, Zabini." Draco snarled, hoping the other man had not noticed his slightly scarlet face. He quickly takes a monstrous gulp of Firewhisky, ignoring Blaise's constant: tsks and the bitter, burning sensation that passes through his throat. The two wizards were sitting in a dimmed pub, just after their shifts had finished. Portraits of past owners were aligned on the wall, along with newspaper clippers filled with excellent ratings of the medium-sized tavern. The ole saloon was currently owned by an old wizard by the name of Alexander Lerwick. He was quite friendly, jolly and just overall a delight. He didn't mind Draco's past, he was one of the few people that understood that The Dark Lord was a master of blackmail and threats.

The blond continued to take sips of the threatening alcohol, grimacing as another a slightly painful, fiery feeling would pass through his throat from time to time. Anxiety filled his conscience, causing him to groan mournfully - as if something was just pulling him. Ripping his nerves and sensibility. Any man could undertake the impression of a masochist for purposely enjoying the riveting, conflagrant sensation it provides whilst drinking so.

He quickly ran his fingers through his disheveled, blond hair, moving the unwanted strands of hair back as well. His hair was becoming quite long - and the thought of cutting it had gone through his noggin plenty of times - but he just never had the time to do so. He was growing quite fond of the long, slightly wavy locks, anyhow, so it would not technically be pleasuring in the first place. With pleasure comes luxury, and with luxury - comes fondness and joy. Fondness and joy were feelings that simply were rare to Draco after The Battle of Hogwarts.

"The clock is ticking drastically, Malfoy. You're running out of time and you won't be able to avoid it any longer." Blaise sighed, watching as his old friend gulped down just another glass of Firewhisky. Draco was always professionally ready when drinking wine, and rum. Beer and whisky, on the other hand, were an absolutely altered matter when it came to the blond ferret. Malfoy was always so vulnerable and whiny after drinking Firewhisky, it merely seemed so grotesque and unusual to Blaise. That was the main reason why he tried to avoid the taunting incidences and why Draco would usually order Nettle Wine or Butterbeer, he was quite tolerant towards a nice cup of cherry rum as well.

"'M n-nox bloody sh-tupid," Malfoy slurred, the arm holding up his head barely capable of doing so any more. The dark skinned man stared at the inebriated blond with a repulsive expression before snatching the glass of Firewhisky away.

"No more whiskey for you." Blaise said hastily, ignoring the other ex-Slytherin's whines and yelps. People were beginning to stare, which caused Blaise to feel more anxious and chagrin. "You've had too much," he explained to the almost-unconscious man, and decided that it would be best to Apparate Draco home before he could do any more damage to his noggin, as well as both of their reputations. The man snarled to himself.

Imagine the headlines tomorrow: Aurors Malfoy and Zabini Caught in Drunken Stages in The Pub West of Diagon Alley.

It would be an obviously plain and straight-forward title, as well a boring tale to it with absolutely no juicy gossip - but with the help of Rita Skeeter and her snappy attitude, there would be tales and stories twisted upside down and right side-round tomorrow. Blaise threw a couple of Galleons on the counter, nod a good bye to the chirpy barman, grabbed Draco by the collar - tightly - and Apparated Draco's flat, located a couple of - unsuspected - miles left of Hermione Granger's. Despite how intoxicated the man might have been - and was - he was still capable of apparation.

Blaise settled his friend on the first, hazel-colored love seat he grabbed sight of, ignoring the blond's spurred mumbles that disagreed with the wizard's choice. Even when he was drunk, he still demanded for the best.

Draco Lucius Malfoy woke up the next, fair evening with a blasted head-ache that throbbed continuously, and would not stop, despite his mournful groans and colorful curses, as well as nice cup of tea. - His head would not stop ringing! His face turned sour, more sour than before when he realized - after he finished his second cup of branded, Ceylon Tea - that merely a hot drink would not do. It was time to bring out the big guns, as the muggle saying goes. It was, to be more specific, time for a nicely-brewed hangover potion.

"Bloody Salazar," he constantly mumbled under his breath, hating himself somewhat as he moved - well, shuffled - towards the kitchen, leaning against the wall slightly for reassurance. When the blonde finally reached his destination, he gripped onto the handle of the closest, darkest cabinet. He then proceeded to jerk his arm in a rough manner, causing the cabinet door to fling open, revealing plenty of organized rows of vials filled with the same hangover remedy. Courtesy of both Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini last Christmas.

He bit down viciously onto his bottom lip before grasping the vial most nearby, swiftly unscrewing the cap, and downed the remedy as if it was the Elixir of Life itself. - Or another form of caffeine, in other words.

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine, anger sparkle slightly, and curiosity settle into her noggin when she saw Draco Lucius Malfoy standing at her door in late evening with arms crossed and a distorted expression. The brilliant witch leaned against the door-frame, crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest, and mocked his warped expression. Or - at least she tried to mock his aspect. "Not even a proper greeting?" Hermione's brain barely registered the teasing tone before gesturing for him to follow her into her flat for what seemed to be the second-or-so time.

"So, why exactly are you here, Malfoy?" Hermione raised an interrogating brow as he bit down on his bottom lip in the most unMalfoyish way.

"I'm here.." he paused for a moment - whether for dramatic effect, or whether for Merlin-knows-why - before locking eyes with the girl he would soon wed. She didn't at all try to avoid Draco's seemingly scrutinizing gaze, instead, matching his calmness rather professionally. Her expression one of business, rather than friendliness. The two stood there, shuffling awkwardly from time to time, but neither daring to break the relieving silence that danced soothingly around them.

Hermione, being Hermione, decided to finally speak, fracturing and dissolving the silence into wavering, magically enhanced particles. "Forgive me for saying so," she began, smiling a slight sardonic smile that caused Draco to become somewhat taken aback, "but, I think it'd be much easier if you start pulling together coherent sentence, without becoming entranced in whatever it is that's making you stare off into space." Draco managed a weak snarl before sighing a defeated sigh.

"If we're going to actually go through with… with this excuse-for-a-wedding, then we should start getting things in order." Plenty of emotions thrift through Hermione's face – confusion, shock, and oddly, sympathy – before she settled for a light smile that caused Draco's stomach to flutter and twist in the most manly way. "Shouldn't we?" Draco added, in Hermione's midst of understanding. She pursed her lips for a moment – a movement that reminded Draco of Narcissa, during one of her mood swings – before deciding that Malfoy, though had an excellent point, most likely did not have the same wants as Hermione, which would most likely ruin their developing relationship, with the addition of their stubborn attitudes.

She nodded swiftly, taking a seat on one of the armchairs that occupied her living room, nodding her head towards the one directly across from hers, a universal sign for him to take the seat she was suggesting. Hermione ignored his annoyed grunts, her honey brown eyes soon examining his remaining façade. "So?" his tone sounded somewhat accusing, she passed it off as merely curious.

"So." She replied simply, her tone advising that that one word would answer all his questions if he examined the word with more precision. – As if it really mattered, to begin with.

Draco could not help but roll his eyes, pursing his lips to some degree as well, "So, Granger, what are some of your ideas for the Malfoy-Granger wedding?" That statement caused a soft, short giggle to emit from Hermione. The blond clucked his tongue and kept that information away for further investigation.

She leaned back and released a heavy breath, her forefinger tapping gently and consecutively on her amaranth-red lips. "I think," she started, transferring her aloof gaze at the blond himself, "I think it'd be best if it was a private wedding, with the ceremony official there and Ginny as my… as my maid of honor – or whatever – and you can invite Zabini there as your groomsmen – well, man, in this case. Erm. What do you think?" Her words were rushed, but Draco caught each and every one of them. "In our case." Hermione quickly added, staring at the blond, her partner, with a slight twinkle in her eyes. Hope.

Draco really did not know why he did it – why he smiled a reassuring smile and answered her question with an easy, 'Sure, sounds like a good plan, Granger.' Maybe it was how she returned his smile with a bright, shining grin. Maybe it was how pathetically hopeful her expression was. Maybe it was that slight twinkle, slight glint in her eyes that made her look somewhat like an angel, so innocent and pure. Or maybe it was the way she nearly – nearly – leapt to her feet at his delightful answer, causing her luscious locks and curls to bounce and sway daintily. Then again, Draco pondered, maybe he was becoming rather mental due to the girl.

A/N - There you go, some foreshadowing - well, not technically, but still. I hope you all rather enjoyed this chapter, I apologize a ton for not updating sooner. I've just been rather busy, but, I hope this chapter makes up for it - even if it's just a bit.

Anyways, remember to review, and favorite, and I promise to update chapter 10 soon!

PS - For anyone that's plainly wondering - Yes, chapter ten shall finally show the Malfoy-Granger wedding.

Thanks for everything you've done so far.

- Saga Hugs&Kisses

A/N - Updated 6/29/14

I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.

-Saga