"You're what?"

Fervently hoping that he had misunderstood, Draco waited for his son to re-state his disturbing declaration.

"I'm marrying Lily Potter." Scorpius crossed his arms and dared his father to refute. "I told you we were dating and that I liked her, so you really shouldn't be so shocked."

"I thought you meant she was a good shag!" Draco downed his bourbon and wished the burn would remove his aggravation with his situation from his mind. "How was I supposed to know you meant you actually fancied her?"

Scorpius laughed incredulously. "I said — and I quote — 'I'm seeing Lily Potter, and I think I'm in love with her'. How the hell else do you want me to spell it out, Dad?"

Draco couldn't believe this was happening. The only thought more irritating than the idea of his son mingling with Potter and his flock of ginger Mudblood lovers was the possibility of him procreating with one of them. It was just as well that his own father was already dead, or this would have killed him all over again, though his mother wasn't likely to appreciate the idea much, either.

But he had told Scorpius in some inexplicable moment of weakness that he was free to marry whomever he liked. Draco didn't really mean it when he said it, but he thought he had at the time. Then again, he hadn't even considered the idea that his son would want to marry into such an unsavoury element. Both he and Astoria had worked hard to instil their son with a modicum of social responsibility, but that had obviously not been enough to keep this borderline catastrophe from happening.

Resigned by his own concession, Draco sighed. "Fine. Just... you tell your mother, not me."

"I already did," Scorpius said, seemingly enjoying Draco's annoyance. "She's thrilled that she'll get grandchildren."

"Ugh, don't say that!" Draco said, shuddering inwardly at the thought of a bunch of red-headed urchins shattering the comfortable silence of Malfoy Manor.

Shaking his head, Scorpius said, "Get used to it, Dad. I love Lily, and that's not going to change. Eventually, you're going to have to make peace with it, and you might want to try sooner rather than later."

Not liking the sound of that, Draco warily asked, "Why is that?"

"We set a date," Scorpius said. "We've decided on the twenty-eighth of June."

"But that's in a month! You can't plan a wedding in a month. Are you bloody mad?" His indignation may or may not have been due to desperation to stop the situation and dismay at its imminence rather than the logistics of planning the affair in that span of time, but nevertheless, it made him feel powerless in the situation. He couldn't even refute the warning signs that Scorpius had pointed out, which made him come to one nauseating conclusion: this was really happening.

"Do I really have to be here?" Draco asked as he anxiously sat with Astoria and Scorpius, waiting for the bride and her parents to meet them for a planning discussion.

Scorpius frowned. "Dad, you can't keep being like this. The Potters are reasonable people, and I don't want things to start off on the wrong foot."

"Have you met them?" Draco grumbled as he drank his tea too quickly, scalding his tongue. When he stole his wife's water to assuage the pain, she simply endowed him with a look that oozed 'well, that's what you get'. He wasn't going to get any support against this mad venture from her, either, if he couldn't even get sympathy for almost inadvertently melting his own face. Already feeling a headache coming on, Draco glanced at his watch. "They're late."

Glaring at her husband, Astoria said, "Draco, it's five minutes. Your world isn't going to end if you have to wait an extra five minutes."

So you say, he wanted so badly to retort before he thought better of it. Astoria wasn't a truly nasty woman, but she had a vindictive streak a mile wide, and if she thought he was putting a damper on her precious baby boy's happiness, her retribution would be quick and it would be painful, like an angry mother Hippogryff without the beak.

Another tense five minutes passed before someone finally rushed to their table, breathless from running none too gracefully through the restaurant. It was Lily, but she didn't have her parents in tow. It was the last person he had ever expected to see. "Granger."

"Draco," Hermione acknowledged. "Harry and Ginny send their regrets, but —"

Suspecting an upcoming lie, Draco asked, "So, Granger, what brings you here instead of Potter and Mrs Boy-Who-Lived?" Hermione averted her eyes, cheeks red with embarrassment, and Draco enjoyed her discomfiture immensely. If he was stuck there, the least he could do was make someone half as miserable as he was.

Finally, Hermione answered, "Well, Harry has work obligations that he can't get out of, and Ginny is busy covering the Eastern European Quidditch League finals."

"In other words," Draco said smugly as he opened his menu, "another hateful, spiteful, disgruntled Weasley. Got it."

The foot that connected with his shin could have either come from his wife or from Lily, though he doubted the latter had even heard him. His sideways glance at Astoria confirmed his suspicion. Her pointed look told him all he needed to know about what would happen if he continued this particular path, so he decided to nurse the glass of water in front of him, wishing all the while that it was some form of liquor.

Pulling out a giant folder, Hermione started flipping through it. Inside were pictures of various congregation halls and even a few churches, along with statistics about seating capacity, accessibility, and practicality in terms of Muggle repelling. Draco was both impressed and irritated by the thoroughness of the research, but after twenty minutes of solid disagreement, the constant over-analysis between Hermione and Astoria, and the feeling that his presence was completely unnecessary grated on his nerves. With a sigh of frustration, he said, "Just have the wedding at Malfoy Manor so we don't have to worry about any of this."

The moment that statement left his mouth, Draco realised his gaffe, but Astoria apparently wasn't up on her war history. She smiled and said, "That's a brilliant idea, Draco! Why didn't I think of that?"

Lily, however, must have been more aware of the situation. When she saw her aunt blanch, she said, "That might not work out so well. Not everyone in my family would be, er, comfortable with going there."

Astoria must have taken the comment as an insult and stood up abruptly before leaning forward toward Lily. "Are you implying that we're not your type of people? Are we not good enough for you?"

"Mother, sit down!" Scorpius snapped. "That's ridiculous. You must have misheard —"

"I did no such thing, and you know it." Her face full of revulsion, Astoria turned back to Lily and said, "I knew this was a mistake, but I want my son to be happy. How he thinks that will happen with rabble like you, I don't know, but I refuse to be a part of this. You Muggle lovers call us pure-bloods judgmental, but look at you, maligning Scorpius's family home!"

Draco stared at his wife, completely gobsmacked at her outburst. He felt like he should have interjected, but what he could possibly say to diffuse the tension rather than exacerbate it eluded him. The entire time they'd been married, he never recalled her being so hostile. Granted, he'd neither known nor cared what her societal views were, but she'd never acted so ill-tempered toward anyone before.

When Astoria stormed out, everyone at the table gaped at the door that the maître-d barely had enough time to open for her abrupt exit. Lily looked ready to rip her future mother-in-law's hair out, Scorpius looked embarrassed, but Hermione was biting her lip. Draco could see how hard she was trying not to think about what had happened at Malfoy Manor decades before, memories that she had no doubt tried to suppress as much as he had, and that was a battle she was losing.

Scorpius was the first to break the silence. Taking Lily's hand, he stood and said, "I'm going to pay the cheque and take Lily home. I'll see you later then?" When Draco nodded absently, the young couple left as quickly as was politely possible.

Left alone with Hermione, Draco wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He knew they were thinking about the same thing, and mentioning it was a disaster waiting to happen, but an urge beyond even his own understanding took over him. "Listen, er, Granger," he started before amending, "Hermione." Her name felt strange on his lips until he considered the fact that he had never once said it. She had always been 'Granger' or 'Mudblood' to him, but never 'Hermione'.

Hermione had no doubt noticed the awkward syllables, as well. She eyed him suspiciously before settling her gaze once again on her untouched drink, sending a surge of unwanted sympathy through Draco. "She didn't know," he blurted. "I never told her about what happened that night, and since it's not really in the public record…"

"It doesn't matter," she said flatly. "This is about Lily and Scorpius, not me. I just wanted to help my niece until her mother could get back, but it's clearly not working out." Gathering her folder of pictures, Hermione said, "I'll just go. Sorry to disturb your lunch."

Before Draco could even process what she had just said, Hermione was gone. It was that moment that the serving staff decided to finally deliver the food they'd ordered, only to find all but one of the dining party gone and the remaining attendee with a severe lack of appetite.

He should have known that the disastrous lunch wouldn't be the end of the Great Wedding Fiasco, and Draco wasn't wrong in this assumption. Astoria said very emphatically that she would have no part in the whole business and that she would publically condemn the marriage. As if that wasn't bad enough, later that very afternoon, Scorpius stormed into the conservatory where Draco had thought he wouldn't be found, and the younger Malfoy was furious.

"How could you let her do that?" Scorpius snapped. "It took all bloody afternoon to convince Lily that you both don't hate her and won't sabotage the wedding. Then her dad came home, and that didn't improve the situation."

It annoyed Draco that this had somehow become his fault and not Astoria's. All he had done was say one thing without thinking, and suddenly he was the prat who unleashed Hurricane Astoria upon his son's wedding plans. Had he not been cooperative? Had he not gone along with this preposterous idea with minimal complaint? Why was he the villain? Defensively, Draco said, "I'm not your mother's chaperon, Scorpius. How was I supposed to know she'd do that to someone she just met?"

Scorpius sighed. "I know." Dejectedly leaning against the wall, he said, "You didn't mean to upset anyone. Lily told me what happened to her aunt, and…"

Draco was glad Scorpius didn't vocalise whatever thought had been on the tip of his tongue. Chances were that it would have made him look like a complete arse, and he'd already filled his quota for that particular trait for the day. As much as he was loath to admit it, the idea of Lily becoming his daughter-in-law had become less repugnant as he saw her interact with Scorpius. They obviously loved one another, and despite her rather lamentable heritage, she was… nice. Draco cringed inwardly at his own choice of adjective, but he really hadn't noticed anything about her that annoyed him. Worse yet, he had the feeling that down the line, he could even begin to like her.

Groaning, Draco said, "I'll see what I can do."

Scorpius grinned, which only served to further nauseate Draco. "Thanks, Dad." Bounding toward the door, he said, "I'll be back later. I promised Lily's dad that I would sit down with him and have a little talk." The nervousness in Scorpius's voice was apparent, which almost made Draco feel vindicated. He could only hope that Potter would do them all a favour and squash all of this wedding nonsense.

Alone with his promise, Draco pulled out quill and parchment and set out to do something he thought he would never do: compose a letter intended for Hermione. It felt so bizarre that he feared his owl would look at him oddly and not bother delivering the message. But his son had never asked him for anything more than the trivial desires of boyhood, and he had vowed to himself to make his son happier than his own father had made him. If that meant allowing this… unfortunate match-up happen and conspiring with possibly the most annoying person alive to do it, then he would do it.

It was proving harder than he'd thought, though. Quill poised and ready to write, Draco was already losing his resolve. Before he could talk himself out of it, he scribbled down a salutation, only to frown at the solitary word. Granger. That wasn't even her name anymore, though he suspected she would still answer to it. With a grunt of frustration, he scribbled out that word and replaced it with the next applicable term — Weasley. Damn. That wouldn't do, either, as there was the offhand chance that the message would reach the wrong recipient and put him face to face with her even more repugnant husband.

His hand positively tingling in distaste, he scratched out his last attempt and amended it. Hermione. It felt almost dirty being civilised toward her, but he didn't know the first thing about wedding planning. For his own ceremony, his mother had taken care of everything along with Astoria and her mum. He wasn't even sure where one would go to get invitations made. And it was with a sigh that he penned the rest of the letter.

Hermione,

It is my hope that you are still interested in assisting with the wedding plans. If this is the case, please meet me at Twilfitt and Tattings this Thursday at four. Scorpius has a robe fitting scheduled.

-DM

He frowned at the words on the page. They didn't sound like him at all, and Hermione wasn't likely to even believe he wrote them at all. It was too… nice. He had never respectfully requested anything in his life, and he wasn't likely to start with Hermione bloody Granger. With an aggravated grunt, he balled up the paper and chucked it at the fire. That fiasco of a note wouldn't be seeing the light of day.

Meet me at Twilfitt's and Tatting's, Thursday at four.

-DM

Much better. He sounded far more like himself and less like a mewling sot. Armed with that assurance, he sent the letter off with his owl, Polaris, and decided that his efforts were to be rewarded with a very large glass of spirits — the top shelf, finest one could buy spirits.