Roses are red

Violets are blue

I don't own Harry Potter

This is sad, but true

Draco Malfoy, heir to the throne of Wizarding England, usually began his Sundays in bed with a witch of less moral substance than a cockroach. It was no surprise, therefore, that he was in a dastardly mood when on this particular weekend, he was instead sitting at the breakfast table with his mother. Narcissa Malfoy wore a bemused sort of smile as she regarded her only child over the rim of her tea cup.

"Draco, darling," she breathed. "Do stop frowning; you'll give yourself wrinkles."

His scowl deepened. What did he care of wrinkles? They continued their meal in silence, until his mother set aside her cutlery and cleared her throat.

"I have found you a wife," she said calmly, as if she were simply telling him she had purchased another thoroughbred. Draco spat out some of his Darjeeling.

"You what?"

"I have found you a wife." Narcissa repeated.

"Oh? And who might she be?"

"Her name is Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger," Draco bit his lip trying to recall the name. "And where does she come from?"

"England."

Draco choked on his tea again and set the cup aside, deciding that drinking was a risky task at present. "Then she is not royalty."

"She is," Narcissa said slowly, raising her own tea cup to her lips. She took a long sip before she continued. "She is the heir to the Muggle throne."

"That's preposterous!" Draco seethed. "You can't be serious, Mother!"

"I am, Draco."

"What does Father say about this?"

As if on cue, Lucius Malfoy entered the room and came to stand behind his wife, resting a gloved hand on her shoulder. "I say that you will marry this girl, Draco." His voice was soft but effortlessly icy; even after all they had been through in recent years, the King could still make his son's blood run cold.

"A Muggle?" Draco sneered. "Are you both completely out of your minds? Are we being blackmailed? I'd rather be a pauper on the streets than – "

His father quelled him with a look. "She is a Muggle-born, Draco." Lucius enunciated. He squeezed his wife's shoulder as the Queen sighed, her eyes glassy.

"It isn't what we wanted for you, Draco," Narcissa implored him. "But after the events of the past few years, it has been very difficult to find any princess worthy of the Malfoy name and title."

"So because Father decided to engage in a trade deal with Lord Voldemort, I must now suffer at the hands of an impure witch who won't know a wand from a broomstick!"

"I assure you," a new voice floated into the room ahead of its owner, "that I am even less pleased about this arrangement than you are."

She was pretty, Draco decided upon first glance, in an understated and classical way. She was brunette and curvier than he usually liked. But, he conceded ruefully, she was not completely undesirable. She wore a simple lilac gown with silk gloves, and her face was free from makeup.

"I suppose this is her," he nodded towards Hermione, who had stopped in front of Lucius and Narcissa.

She curtsied. "Lovely to see you again," she said as she straightened.

"The pleasure is ours, Hermione," Narcissa smiled, though the action was clearly forced. "Please, join us."

Hermione slid into a chair between Draco and his mother. Footsteps echoed from outside the dining room before anyone could speak further, and another woman entered. She looked like Hermione, only twenty years older.

"Good morning," she curtsied as Hermione had done. "I am Jane Granger, Hermione's mother and Queen of England…well, Muggle England. That's right, isn't it?" She glanced down at her daughter.

"Yes, mother." Hermione replied through clenched teeth.

Jane joined them at the table and began speak with Narcissa and Lucius. "I do apologise for my husband's absence," she began. "He had an urgent call from Australia which could not be ignored."

Draco looked at Hermione, whose eyes were trained on her mother's face. From the way her jaw was set, Draco thought it rather looked like she was trying to set her mother on fire with her eyes. He smirked but ducked his head quickly as Hermione turned to look at him. She frowned, but he did not see it, choosing instead to admire his napkin.

"What do you say we retire to the study to look over the proposal," his father said. "We can leave these two to get to know each other." He shot a look at Draco that clearly meant be nice; Draco sneered in response.

Their parents filed from the room, leaving Draco and Hermione to wallow in the silence. They sat like that for a few long minutes before Draco decided he could stand it no longer.

"I just want you to know," he said in a deadly whisper. "That I am not happy about this arrangement, and I never will be. You are beneath me in every way, and I have plans to overturn this stupid marriage the second you leave here today."

He had expected her to quake and tremble at his words, perhaps tear up or even cry. Hermione Granger did none of those things. Instead she leant forward, resting her hands daintily on the table and affixed him with a glare to rival his mother's.

"I hope you don't think that I would want to be associated with scum like you and your father," she began, her tone just as cold as his. "I would rather not be forced into this union, so…" she narrowed her eyes and Draco actually gulped, "if you need help in finding a way out of it, be sure to let me know."

With that she stood and waltzed from the room, leaving a strong scent of floral perfume and a semi-aroused Prince in her wake.