Author's Note + Disclaimer: This will be a sweeping disclaimer for all chapters. I don't own any of these characters, places, etc., they belong to J.K. Rowling and whoever else has ownership of them. I write for fun, so please do not sue. Any notable references will be credited at the bottom of each chapter.

March 21, 2016: I've always wanted to do one of those "marriage contract" fics, so here's my take on it. I really hope you enjoy this story, I've had a lot of fun imagining it!

CHAPTER 1

"Mrs. Passano is here for your 2:00 meeting, Mr. Malfoy," a female voice cracked through the gramophone that served as the intercom.

Draco Malfoy sighed, setting down his quill in defeat. Tapping his wand to the horn, he replied tiredly, "fine, send her in."

He adjusted his tie and the jacket of his charcoal suit. Draco quickly ran a hand through his hair to tidy it up. Just as he had gotten rid of most of the miscellaneous documents on his desk, he turned to see Mrs. Hawthorne, his secretary, letting a thin woman into his office.

Melinda Passano was a tall, thin woman, to the point where he could practically see the hollows of her cheeks against her tan, almost leathery skin. Her light brown hair was firmly pulled back into a sleek bun. Large, alert green eyes stared back at him through round spectacles. She had on a burgundy skirt suit with sensible black high heels. Trotting up to his desk, she offered her right hand, while the other carried her dragon hide briefcase with gold buckles.

Draco stood up, unconsciously buttoning his suit jacket, briskly shaking her hand in his. She gave him a curt smile and sat down. He suppressed a sigh. He sensed that this would a long meeting and had to have his wits about him in order to get through it.

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy," said Melinda as she opened her briefcase to retrieve documents.

"And to you too, Mrs. Passano," Draco returned.

"Now that the formalities are over with, I hope we would get right to business," Melinda began. Draco stayed silent, slightly stunned by the forwardness of the woman's approach. She had given him a no-nonsense vibe, but most people at least play the game of making small talk before getting onto business. He hoped that this meeting would be done since they skipped it, so he let her continue on without interjecting.

"Since you have hired me as your new Public Relations representative, I took the liberty of going through all of your press releases since you began at the Malfoy Company as well as any personal press clippings," Melinda explained, sliding two pieces of parchment in front of Draco.

Draco picked up the paper and saw a chart on each piece of parchment. One parchment showed that the reputation of the company had skyrocketed since he had taken over as the Deputy Head of the Board and as the Head of Sports and Entertainment. Switching to the next sheet, he saw that his own personal reputation would either take a dip or otherwise stay stagnant well below the necessary approval rating. He snarled in frustration. None of this information was new, so what was the point of bringing this up?

"Mrs. Passano, I believe I hired you to rectify this very situation, so what was the point to show me this?" Draco asked as politely as he could, though it came behind gritted teeth.

"If you look closely," Melinda replied unperturbed by his frustration, leaning closer with her wand. She tapped the second parchment and it zoomed in to one of the dips. "Each time you have some type of personal… affair… to put it nicely, your reputation takes a turn for the worse. It mainly has to do with the reputation of the types of women you have been seen with."

Draco snorted. "For Salazar's sake, it's not like I'm gallivanting about with prostitutes."

"True," snipped Melinda, frowning at his vulgarity. "But many of these women are models, singers, or socialites. The public does not take kindly to these stories, regardless of their personalities."

"So what do you suggest?" Draco demanded, crumpling up the pieces of parchment into little balls in his fist before aiming them into the rubbish bin. One ball made it in, while the other hit the rim, only to fall to the side dejectedly.

"To get into a relationship," Melinda answered simply.

Draco eyes narrowed. "Isn't that the very reason why I'm sitting here with a shitty reputation?"

"I mean a committed relationship," she elaborated, turning her pointy nose up at his cursing. She stood up and started pacing.

"Of course, it would be a relationship on paper. We find you a well-liked female with a great background and spring it on the media that you two are engaged to wed. This is usually a fool-proof method of turning around the perpetual bachelor's reputation around. Now, the matter is simply finding the right woman…" she explained. She began to tap her chin as she paced back and forth, trying to come up with the perfect match.

"This will be a contracted arrangement, right?" Draco said with a raised eyebrow, grasping for the nearest magazine on his table. It sounded like a sound idea so long as he didn't actually have to go through it. Since his last long-term relationship, he had no desire to get married again. Melinda Passano had the reputation in Wizarding Britain for repairing reputations and building personalities, while she seemed surly, he trusted that this attitude is what made her the top expert in her field.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," she answered with the haziest ghost of a smile. "Now, I've come up with a small list of single women that may be presentable depending on their connections and background. Wizarding Britain is small, so the pool is not that large. I've noticed from your past, you tend to date Englishwomen and those that are either pure or half-blood. I trust you intend to keep it that way?" She returned to her briefcase to extract another document.

"Yes," Draco replied curtly. He if she was going to through the rundown, he might as well entertain himself with one of the gossip rags Mrs. Hawthorne would paw through on her lunch break while he was at it.

"How about Susan Bones?" she suggested.

"No Hufflepuffs," Draco scowled, flipping a page.

"Alright," Melinda said through pursed lips. "How about… Millicent Bulstrode?"

Of course it was at that moment Draco had chosen to take a sip of water. "Excuse me?" Draco sputtered, once he had recovered from choking on the gulp of water he had taken in. Was the woman absolutely mad? He was beginning to have his doubts about her expertise at this point.

"Well, I figured you wanted a Slytherin since you're so picky!" Melinda snapped hotly.

"So long as they're not a Hufflepuff, I don't give a flying fig," Draco snapped. "Just pick someone that makes sense."

She continued to go through the list, describing each woman's attributes, both mental and physical, their background and history, in addition to their connections. Draco grew more and more bored after each name until he came across an article in the magazine he had been going through. He pulled his feet that had been propped on top of his desk down and sat up straight in his leather chair. There across the page was Ginny Weasley, the Walking Disaster. The picture showed Ginny being hauled out of a pub after one of her latest pub brawls. She looked disgruntled, angry, and frustrated. Her brown eyes were exploding with anger while her now famous scarlet tresses had been freed from what was once a ponytail. You could practically hear her yelling at the security troll that was hauling her off as she squirmed and kicked and thrashed against whoever tried to grab at her.

"And the next one is…."

"Ginny Weasley," Draco interrupted her for the first time in a long time.

"Excuse me?" Melinda stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him aghast. "You mean the Holyhead Harpies Chaser?"

"Yes," Draco said, folding the back of the magazine and throwing it towards the publicist on the desk.

She picked it up hesitantly and scanned the page. "You've got to be joking. She's a PR nightmare. Weasley's gaining a reputation for being unruly in the tabloids."

"Exactly," Draco sighed out of frustration. Did he have to spell it out for her? Wasn't this supposed to be her job?

"What better way to get someone to be on board with a sham engagement than if she needs the reputation boost herself? I'm sure the Harpies owners would be delighted to give her a media makeover," Draco proclaimed triumphantly.

"But, sir, she's by all accounts your sworn enemy," Melinda pointed out. "She may be pure-blooded, but she is not exactly the winning woman I had in mind for your image overhaul."

"What are you talking about? She's the Gryffindor poster child. She's a Weasley, a name that unfortunately is held in high regard in our society. She has some of the biggest connections today. She's an athlete and is still loved by the masses in spite of her ridiculous antics," Draco explained. "Merlin's bollocks, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Apparently," Melinda frowned, crossing her arms.

"What better story than enemies reconciling? Especially ones that are considered to be on opposite sides? How could anyone view me negatively if I was seen with Ginny Weasley of all women?" Draco explained, getting up from his seat and coming around the desk.

"And on that note, why the hell haven't you thought of this brilliant idea?" Draco questioned, crossing his own arms.

"I-I-Um…" she stammered nervously.

"Look, she's the one. Go talk to the owners. Bribe them. Pay them off. Buy them brand new uniforms, broomsticks, whatever the hell they want. Just make sure you create an iron-clad contract. I don't want any surprises," Draco said, returning back to his seat. He took out a fresh piece of parchment from the center drawer of his desk and began scribbling across it in his elegant, neat script. Now that there was a plan in mind, he needed to start preparing.

"Yes," Mrs. Passano murmured.

"Oh, and Mrs. Passano?" Draco said, pausing to look up from his work. "You better be worth the galleons I'm paying for you. Or I will be sure to ruin your reputation is destroyed. Are we clear?"

"Yes," she squeaked. Apparently the woman could dish out the attitude but couldn't take it when it was given to her. She quickly gathered her parchments in a messy heap and shoved them into her briefcase without arranging or sorting them. She clamped the case shut, pieces of parchment sticking out in every which direction. She quickly disappeared with a shaky pop!

"Gin, the owners are looking for you," a woman called out to her from behind. Ginny turned to see Gwenog Jones, her former hero and now captain and teammate standing there. She stood taller than Ginny with her larger Beater build in comparison to Ginny's small Chaser build. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail as her dark green and gold Quidditch uniform robes swirled around offsetting her dark skin.

"The owners?" Ginny squeaked nervously. She had been called by the manager plenty of times to get reprimanded, but she had never had to talk to the actual owners. She could get away with greetings and small talk at formal Quidditch functions, but other than that she rarely interacted with them.

"Yep. And they're looking impatient," Gwenog noted grimly.

"Guess there's no point in changing," Ginny said with a sigh. She placed her broomstick in its carrying case and removed her protective gear. Once they were tucked away in her cubby in the locker room, she Apparated to the outside of the Holyhead Harpies' company office. With a deep breath, she knocked on the large wooden double doors.

The doors magically opened and she walked in, trying to hold her head up high. There stood the three owners looking at her with such intensity that Ginny couldn't help but involuntarily gulp. She suddenly felt like she was back at Hogwarts, and under the stern gazes of Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape.

"Good afternoon," said Horace Marchbanks. "Why don't you have a seat?"

He motioned for her to sit around the conference table. He was a short, portly man with gray hair that was beginning to fade from his crown, leaving a wispy halo of charcoal. As she sat down, she noticed that Frank Bell, the second owner of the team, a tall, churlish man had apparently decided to wear a toupee atop his own shiny head, though the bright ginger locks contrasted horribly with his natural dark hair. She bit her cheek from trying not to snigger at the absurd image. It probably wouldn't help her case if she was laughing at one of the owner's appearance.

"We've called you in Miss Weasley because of your latest antics," began Amy Wu. She was the newest co-owner of the team, having retired ten years ago from the Holyhead Harpies herself. Ginny remembered her as a fierce Chaser with highly unpredictable moves that always kept her opponents on their toes. Her straight jet-black hair fell past her shoulders and she looked at Ginny with serious dark, almond-shaped eyes.

"I can explain…" Ginny began, but Amy held her hand up to silence her. Ginny sat back, disgruntled at this action. She was not some naughty child in school! She was a fully grown adult who could do what she wanted. Besides, that oaf who decided to argue with her about their latest game had it coming to him!

"There's no need," Amy continued. "The managers have given you far too many passes. We're having this meeting because you need to change your reputation around."

"What reputation?" Ginny retorted defiantly, crossing her arms. "I'm Britain's Sweetheart."

"That may be," Frank said, leaning in, placing his interlocked hands on the table. "But even Britain's Sweetheart makes mistakes." With a wave of his wand, numerous newspaper and magazine clippings appeared on the table. Each one showed Ginny in some type of argument or fight in front of a pub or nightclub. One memorable occasion was at the grocery store. In the past several months, the media had taken to literally calling her the Walking Disaster, since she created catastrophes wherever she went. While she was still hailed as an excellent Chaser, the same couldn't be said off the field.

"Simply put, you need to get your act together," input Horace. "Your endorsements are threatening to let go of you and this just won't do."

"They can't do that!" Ginny cried, slamming her fists onto the table. "I signed bloody contracts with those wankers!"

"Well, clearly you didn't read them properly, Miss Weasley, because there were stipulations attached," Amy chided. "If you do anything to tarnish your image, they will let you go."

"Either you straighten up, or the deals will dry up," Frank explained simply, his pompous eyes glaring at her. "You have become the face of this team, and as such you must maintain a certain persona with the public."

"What do you expect me to do?" asked Ginny, her irritation becoming visible. Owners be damned! They couldn't control her life like this!

"Luckily for you, one of the top publicists in Wizarding Britain has offered you a proposal," Horace wheezed. "Based on her research, a relationship will be a sure fire way to change your reputation."

"Excuse me?!" Ginny squawked. Were they actually going to put her in one of those fake relationships celebrities were forced into? Was that actually a thing? "I'm pretty sure my talent can speak for itself," Ginny exclaimed, before muttering under her breath, "only a man would come up with a stupid plan as this."

"Actually, Ginny, I agree with this plan," Amy interjected calmly. Et tu, brutus? "I was the face of the Harpies for a period of time. I know what it's like. A make-believe relationship will deter people from your current predicament and instead they'll be fixated on whatever rubbish the papers decide to come up with."

Frank pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. His eyes flew open and he said, "Don't you get it, Weasley? Your reputation is already tarnished. This is a fool-proof method of turning it around. It's either that or bye-bye endorsements. Your Quidditch career will only last for so long, but endorsements can go far beyond your career."

Ginny sighed, squeezing her eyes tight for a moment. She needed to think without their grim faces boring into her expectantly. On the one hand, she didn't want to be forced into some silly, fake relationship. On the other hand, this was purely business. She was sick of getting hounded by the paparazzi, many who exacerbated her situations, and only made her further look like a fool. Her hot head always won out in those incidents. Was this truly the cost of being able to enjoy a pint in peace? But, more importantly, she had those endorsement deals to think about. She had just signed a particularly lucrative international deal with a Quidditch uniform brand, one that would put a nice pile of gold in her Gringotts vault.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked at them all solemnly. "Let's say I agree to this. Which, I'm not, at the moment. How will this work?"

Amy flashed her a tentative smile. "You and the individual in question will be engaged in contract for a period of six months. We'll then leak some story to the press saying that the engagement has been broken off. Quite simple."

"And who would agree to such a contract?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Someone that has their own assets to protect. This way, neither of you can touch each other's assets nor try to swindle anything out of one another," Frank explained.

She sat there in silence, mentally going through the list of available bachelors in Wizarding Britain. And ones that had money to protect. As she perused through the imaginary list, crossing names off, Ginny hadn't heard the door click open behind her. She looked up at the owners and asked curiously, "Just who is this mystery individual?"

"Ready to become Wizarding Britain's power couple, Weasley?" A deep, masculine voice asked from behind.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this story! I have most of it planned out, just need to keep writing! Apologies for any errors, I do my own proofreading! Please, please leave a review on the way out, I seriously appreciate them so much. They totally make my day and get me even more excited to continue the story! Thanks again (: