Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't have written the epilogue.
Seeing a murder on television can help work off one's antagonisms. And if you haven't any antagonisms, the commercials will give you some.
Draco Malfoy walked into Hermione Granger's office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at precisely 3:25 p.m. He liked being early to their weekly meetings. Truth be told, he liked going to their weekly meetings. Once he had started showing her that he really had been working to change his ways, she had become at ease with him. Not to say they were friends or anything. They hadn't made that much progress in a year's time; but they were certainly more comfortable around each other.
She didn't hear him come in, as she was quite engrossed in her Daily Prophet. With an amused look on his face, Draco quietly took a seat in the chair across from her and waited until she was finished. He knew her reaction to the day's news would be entertaining.
"Unbelievable," she muttered as she turned the page. At 3:28 p.m., she folded her paper up and placed it on her desk. She didn't seem terribly surprised to see him there.
"Been reading Rita Skeeter lately, Granger?" he asked with a smirk.
"Marriage Law. Preposterous!" she shook her head in disbelief.
"Do you reckon people are going to believe her?"
"Who knows? It's a load of rubbish anyway," she said.
"Not even worth the paper it's printed on," he agreed.
"I mean, who in their right mind could actually believe the Ministry would pass a law that would have purebloods marry half-bloods and Muggle-borns by force? It just sounds ridiculous!"
"Well it was more common a long time ago, not so much marriage laws per se; arranged marriages between pureblooded families to keep the magic where, they felt, it belonged." She paused for a minute to consider what he had told her.
"I noticed you said 'they'."
"I did."
"Can I assume your attitude towards Muggles has changed over this past year, Malfoy?"
"Come on, Granger," he rolled his eyes. "You know, as well as I do what these probation meeting, one-on-ones were really about. I'd be in Azkaban right now if my attitudes towards Muggles hadn't changed. I'm man enough to admit it. I never quite gave Muggles the credit they deserve."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Why is that Malfoy?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"An example?" he asked as he sat back, making himself more comfortable.
"Go on, then," she urged.
"Television."
"Television?" He nodded.
"It's very educational."
"How so?"
"Last night I was watching this program about a young man who grew up in this place, I forget where exactly, but anyway," he continued, "he got into a bit of trouble, you see. And so his mum sent him off to live with his family and he became royalty…a prince."
"A prince?"
"Yes. And this program follows his life. I should think I'd like travel there one day. Bel Aire seems like a lovely place." Hermione had to force herself from rolling her eyes. He had been making progress after all, no need for setbacks.
"So tell me, Malfoy, have you had any interaction with a Muggle lately?"
"Well there's the bloke who delivers my Muggle post. I'm very cordial to him."
"You get Muggle post frequently?" she asked curiously.
"Well, whenever I order something off the television."
"What could you possibly order off the television? And how, might I add, do you pay for it?" she asked.
"I have a credit card, Granger. Very convenient. In the Muggle world, my money goes five times as far."
"Yes, the conversion rate is definitely in our favor," she agreed.
"So I was able to exchange some of my gold for Muggle currency, opened up a bank account, and there you have it. Credit card. Take a look at my skin Granger." He sat up so as to give her a closer look.
"More pallid than usual?" He ignored her comment and ran a hand over his face.
"I bought this cream off the television a few nights ago and look at the results. I mean, I thought my face looked good before, but now? I don't think it gets much better than this." She rolled her eyes.
"Okay. Well, you got that face cream. What else do you order?" she asked him.
"Let's see. I bought a set of knives."
"Knives?"
"Calm down, Granger. They're cooking and household knives. One can even cut through a lead pipe."
"Impressive."
"And then there was that exercise machine. I put it together on my own and everything."
"You didn't use magic?"
"Of course I used magic, Granger. But I did it myself without the help of my house-elves."
"So you're using this exercise machine now?"
"Well," he paused, "I don't really have the time to use it. But it's there if I do get the time. And you'll be happy to know I even bought something for my house-elves."
"Really?"
"Yes. I ordered this cooking machine. Some bloke named George says they're supposed to reduce fat and make you healthier. So you see, Granger, everything I buy is for the betterment of myself or my staff."
"The house-elves actually use this machine?"
"Well, I don't know if they actually use it, but it's down in the kitchen for them to use if they please."
"How thoughtful of you."
Marriage is a great institution, but I'm not ready for an institution yet.
"I don't get it, Granger," he said as he sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.
"Don't get what?"
"Why is everyone getting married all of a sudden and having kids? It's strange."
"It's quite typical after a war that there is a 'boom' of sorts."
"No, no, no, it's not that, Granger," he said waving her off. "I mean…" he trailed off in thought. "Perhaps my standards are too high?"
"Your standards for a…partner?" she asked, suddenly becoming slightly uncomfortable at where the subject was going.
"Woman, Granger, I don't swing that way." With a swish of his wand, he conjured up a piece of parchment.
"I made a list, you see," he started, "of everything I need in a wife. Would you like to hear it, Granger?" He didn't wait for her reply and cleared his voice. "First, you must learn how to make my favorite dish, roast lamb and those little potatoes that I love.
"Two, you must be able to soothe me. Seeing as I work very hard," Hermione scoffed but he ignored her, "I, at times, may be under stress, suffer from anxiety, and have tension, and it is the job of my wife to ease and alleviate my suffering.
"Three, pay attention, Granger, because this is an important one. You must be willing to massage my neck and scratch my back. My back, especially, in that area where I can't reach that always seems to itch the most; right between my shoulder blades and no matter how I squirm and reach and twist, it's the itch that can't be scratched!" Hermione looked at him like he was crazy. "Oh come now Granger, we all get that itch. Anyway, back to my list.
"Four, I have a healthy appetite for sex," Hermione grew red.
"Malfoy I don't think-"
"Hush, Granger, I'm nearly done. Now, sex. I require it, good sex, and lots of it. The woman I marry must feel safe, comfortable, and very aroused, though that's never really been a problem in the past," he added. "She should be assertively passionate, and experience great pleasure as a result of being with me.
"Finally, you must be willing to devote yourself and your being to me solely, until we procreate, in which, your attention will be divided betwixt myself, and our offspring," he finished and looked her way.
"I mean, is that so much to ask, Granger? Is it just me?"
"Malfoy, I think I'm at a loss for words."
"Well, that's a first," he said as he leaned back and vanished his list. "So Granger, what exactly is the purpose of a dashboard Jesus…."
She sighed.
Most new books are forgotten within a year, especially by those who borrow them.
"Hey Granger, I need some help."
"And you're going to ask me?"
"Well, it's a moral dilemma wrapped in a library question." Her eyes lit up.
"Oh what - "
"I found this book the other day," he interrupted before she could finish. He did that a lot, but she never said anything. She never could get a word in edgewise with Malfoy when he went off on one of his tangents.
"I realized that I had taken it out of the Hogwarts library during our fifth year, and I never returned it. Do you know what that means? This books is years overdue!"
"Malfoy! You ought to return it at once! Someone might need it."
"I doubt it."
"Well if it's some supplementary reading for class they might."
"It's not that kind of book, Granger."
"Something from the restricted section?"
"Not quite."
"Well then, what book is it?"
"Nice try."
"Oh come on, Malfoy, it can't be that bad. And I promise I won't say anything!" He let out a defeated sigh and refused to meet her eyes.
"Prefects Who Gained Power." She didn't even bother trying to hold in her laughter.
"Go on Granger, laugh it up. Just for that, I'm keeping the damn book!"
Hermione kept her word and never mentioned the book or that conversation again. She did learn from one of her sources at her alma mater however, that soon after their little conversation in her office someone had sent a new and updated version of Prefects Who Gained Power to the Hogwarts library. During their next meeting, Hermione couldn't keep the smile off her face, and Malfoy had merely assumed she'd had a spectacular shag the night before, or someone had sent a delivery of freshly mown grass and new parchment.
Success depends upon previous preparation, and without such preparation there is sure to be failure.
She had received an owl early that morning from Malfoy explaining that he couldn't make their meeting that afternoon, and would reschedule. He even apologized for any inconvenience. Which was why Hermione was startled when Malfoy showed up at her office that night as she had stayed late to finish up some paperwork.
"Malfoy!"
"Weren't expecting me, were you, Granger? If you were, perhaps you wouldn't have spilled ink all over the place."
"What are you doing here?" she asked him as she cleaned up the ink that had dripped over her parchments and desk.
"I cancelled our appointment today and this is our reschedule," he said.
"Why didn't you run it by me first?"
"I did. I said we'd reschedule, this is a rescheduled appointment, is it not? PPPPPP Granger," he said as he helped fixed her desk.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Like the old saying goes, 'proper preparation prevents piss-poor performance'. Sit down Granger,"
"I am sitting Malfoy-"
"…and let me tell you a story," he sat back in his chair to get comfortable. "Once upon a time there was this guy, let's call him Grindly Gunn. Old Grindly always sprinkled pepper on top of his head, and no one knew why. Everyday, before he left his home, he'd sprinkle pepper up on his head, and sometimes he'd take it with him to refresh during the day."
"Pepper?"
"Don't interrupt, Granger," he held up his hand. "I'm getting to the most important part. So anyway, one day Grindly Gunn gets kidnapped and is taken to a cannibal king in Fiji."
"Cannibal king?"
"And they threw him to the cannibal king and the king goes to see how fresh old Grindly is, and when the cannibal king sniffs Grindly's head, he sneezes. And so the cannibal king presumes that he's allergic to Grindly and therefore, it wouldn't be wise to eat him now would it? And do you know what made that cannibal king sneeze Granger?"
"The pepper," she said dully.
"Exactly. Because old Grindly was prepared," he finished.
"Malfoy that story makes absolutely no sense whatsoever!"
"How do you figure?"
There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there's usually only one thing you can do.
"Do you have anxiety, Granger?"
"Well," she said, but he cut her off yet again.
"I mean, you and I are young and we've been through a lot, and I still have anxiety about a lot of stuff."
"Like what, Malfoy?"
"What if something crawls inside my ear and I can't get it out?"
"I don't think…"
"And what if purple hair starts growing on my chest?"
"The chances of…"
"What if a bolt of lightning strikes me, Granger? Then what am I going to do?!"
"Well lightning…"
"What if I tear my pants in front of someone really important?"
"That's easily…"
"What if I grow old and alone?" She softened.
"Malfoy."
"I'm serious. What if I die and no one finds my body until the stench gets so bad that the neighbors come over to complain? And only then does anyone realize I've gone and died! No one should go out like that!"
"Malfoy, I don't think…"
"Don't you worry about it too, Granger?" His question threw her for a loop. Sure, she didn't want to die alone; but she had plenty of time, right? Of course she did! Why was she letting him get to her!
"Malfoy I don't think we need to be concerned with dying alone anytime soon."
"Didn't that war teach you anything, Granger? You need to live in the moment!"
"I agree."
"Not everything can be scheduled in that planner of yours. Sometimes you need to just do something mad!"
"Well, maybe not too..."
"Let's get married!" She had heard him wrong, right?
"I'm sorry I think I just had a hallucination, Malfoy."
"Don't be so dramatic, Granger. Come on, you heard me, let's get married."
"No."
"Why not? Don't you want someone to find your body when you die?"
"Unless you plan on killing me and hiding the evidence, I don't think that's an imperative
issue right now."
"Granger I'm being sincere here, and you're making a mockery of me!"
"I'm making a mockery? You 'propose' just so you won't be alone for the rest of your life! That's not what makes a marriage work, Malfoy."
"So we won't be alone for the rest of our lives, Granger. I'm thinking of you too, here. And besides, you act like marrying me would be a bad idea."
"Because it would be."
"How do you figure?"
Seventeen minutes later, Hermione was still explaining to Draco all the reasons why a marriage between them simply wouldn't work out.
"And finally, I'm not the best cook in the world, and according to that list of yours, your wife needs to be able to make roasted lamb."
"I think you're just afraid of commitment," he said pointedly.
"I most certainly am not!"
"Let's make a deal, Granger."
"What kind of a deal?"
"If neither of us is married within the next year, we'll marry each other."
"Make it five."
"Done."
"Deal." They shook.
"Just in case, Granger, you know my house-elf can always teach you how to properly make roasted lamb."
"PPPPPP, eh, Malfoy?"
"You're finally catching on," he smirked.
"And just so you know, I don't believe in enslaving house-elves, so anyone I marry would know that our elves would be paid, with holidays, and sick time, and they would be treated with the utmost respect since they are our magical brethren."
"Still on about that spew thing, aren't you?"
"It's not spew! It's the Society for the…"
"The Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I know, I know. You've spewed your Spew to me enough times that I can remember it."
"Very funny."
"Okay how about a truce? I could go for a cuppa."
"Fine, but you're paying."
Author's Note: This was an exchange for Divine the Future with Draco and Hermione (written for Sunny June 46 which is incredibly intimidating since her stories are so amazing), and I realized I had never posted it here! I loved writing this one because it was fun and I tried to keep it as light as possible. Thanks for reading!