A/N: I don't support Dramione, I just had a good storyline pop into my head. As you can tell, it's AU. Note: J.K. never told us the names of a certain someone's parents, so I might end up making 'em up. :D
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING except teh plot. Even that, though, I don't have copyrighted.
Two hooded figures snuck in the back of the Hogs Head late on the night of June third, 1980. Sitting at the table they had agreed on previously was a tall man with straight, brown hair and a woman with bushy, dirty-blonde hair. The two with hoods revealed themselves; one was a man, the other a woman. Both had hair such a light shade of blonde it was mistakeable for pure white. Nervously, the tall brown-haired man sipped from his glass. Usually, he'd have had an alchoholic beverage, as it was a bar, but tonight, he said he needed coffee, so coffee had been served. The woman with him had asked for hot tea, and so she received. When the Hogs Head's scruffy owner came around once more to ask what the two blondes wanted, the woman said she'd take wine, and the man motioned him away, not wanting anything. He tapped his fingers impatiently.
"Well?" said blonde woman, equally anxious, but much calmer. She placed her hand over the man she'd arrived with's hand to help him stop tapping.
"As we're all here," the brown-haired man began, "We may begin discussing our problem." The two blondes glanced at each other.
"What my husband means," said the woman next to the brown-haired man, "Is that we may begin to find a solution to our... situation, if you will."
"Ah, yes," said the blonde woman, and the man crossed his arms.
"Well, you have an infant son, yes?" the brown-haired man asked as the blonde woman's drink was brought to them.
"We have," the blonde man nodded, "What about him interests you?"
"You see," said the wife of the man whose hair was brown, "We've an infant girl, and she's... different than all else we know."
"Ah," said the blonde woman again. "Our boy's different, as well. What do you suppose we do about this?"
"Perhaps an arranged marriage?" the blonde man said.
"It worked perfectly for us," his wife agreed.
"A-arranged?" the taller man choked.
"That's what she said, dear. I don't suppose it's a bad idea."
"Arranged...?" he said again.
"Our boy is going to be a very good little boy," said the blonde woman confidentally, "He will need someone to be an equal partner. The other children just won't understand him."
"Yes," agreed the other woman, "Our daughter is the same. And it will save them the trouble of dating. A horrible time, dating is."
"Then, is it settled?" asked the blonde man, holding his hand to the other.
"I don't kn-.." began the brown-haired man, but his wife cut him off.
"It's settled," she smiled, shaking the blonde man's large hand with her own small, delicate one. "It's wonderful to have friends like you."
"Perhaps we should write this down," the blonde woman suggested, raising her wand. Paper appeared out of seemingly no where, and a quillpen appeared, as well. The four adults signed. Each signed in blood.
What the blondes didn't know was that their friends were muggles.
*****
"Mum, can we hurry please?!" urged an eleven-year-old girl with bushy brown hair. "I don't want to miss the train!"
"I'm still packing your books into your bag, dear!" replied her mother. Her dirty-blonde hair was a big grayer in some places, but she was still beautiful, none-the-less.
"Daddy, help Mum so she can finish sooner please!" the girl begged.
"All right, dear!" her father laughed, "I'll try!" His hair retained none of its original brown color that was so apparant eleven years ago.
"All done!" exclaimed the mother, wiping a drop of sweat from her brow. "Now, we can go."
"Wonderful!" the girl exclaimed, jumping up and clapping.
"All in the car, now," her father said, motioning towards the door and guiding his ladies to their vehicle as if they had never made the trip before.
*****
"Mother!" whined an eleven-year-old blonde boy. "I want to go now!"
"Dear, we'll go in just a moment," his mother cooed. Her hair was the same shade of blonde, the shade her son shared. She had a fair number of wrinkles.
"Father!" the boy barked, "Let's go now!"
"We are going when I say so!" his father yelled back. The handsome blonde man who had once existed was gone now, and his hair was considerably longer.
"Yes, Father," said the boy, staring at his own feet.
"Oh, don't be so hard on him!" his mother defended. "Honestly!"
"Yes, Dear," said the man, glancing at his feet, as well.
"Now, let's go," she instructed. "Grab his hand, dear, we're apparating." The man did so, and in a moment, all three were gone.
*****
"Ahh, it's the Grangers!" exclaimed the blonde boy's mother once they had arrived. It took the girl's family longer to arrive because they drove. After all, none of that family could do magic but the girl.
"Narcissa, Darling!" said the girl's mother, embracing the boy's mother. The two fathers shook hands and grinned. The girl and boy glared. Instantly, they hated each other.
"Dear, let me introduce you," fussed the boy's mother, Narcissa. She spoke to the girl directly "This is my son, Draco."
"I'm Hermione," said the girl. She didn't trust this boy, but if her parents did, she'd risk it.
"I've never heard that name before.." the boy, Draco, pointed out.
"Oh, it's from Shakespeare," Hermione shrugged. "Practically no one's heard it before."
"Shakespeare?" Draco asked.
"That's muggle reading!" his father shouted, then looked pointedly at the girls father, "You had your daughter read muggle books?"
"Of course!" the man chuckled. "Why wouldn't we? After all, she's muggleborn!"
"You're... what?!" Narcissa gasped, and nearly fainted.
"Yes," Hermione's mother laughed, "All these years and you didn't know?"
The blonde family shared a horrified expression. "We certainly did not!" said the father.
Narcissa broke into sobs. "B-but we signed in blood! We signed with filthly blood!"
"Excuse me," said Hermione, tugging lightly on Narcissa's coat. She spoke so soon that no one else had a chance to speak, "But we aren't filthy. And please don't cry."
"Do not touch me!" Narcissa shrieked, ripping the edge of her coat away from Hermione, who nearly burst into tears herself. But she was strong. She'd always been strong.
"Do not yell at my daughter!" shouted Hermione's mother.
"Do not tell my wife what to do!" barked the blonde father.
"Do not shout at my wife!" said her father.
"Granger!" the blonde man spat, to which Hermione's father replied, "Malfoy!" as if their last names were insults in themselves. They glared intensely until Hermione pulled her fathers coat to get him away. Draco just glared at Hermione, and, having the most un-Hermoine-like impulse, she stuck her tongue out at him. He looked thoroughly disgusted and mouthed, "I'll get you."
*****