Story Notes:

I would recommend that you read 'Something Old' before you read this, even though this is technically the prequel.

Prologue

Three Weeks to Malfoy-Granger Nuptials!

The countdown to the most anticipated matrimonial event this century stands at three weeks! Witch Weekly had secured exclusive rights to bring you pictures of the hotly anticipated Malfoy-Granger wedding. Our very own Witch Weekly social correspondent, Miss Parvati Patil, managed to catch Wedding-of-the-Century bridesmaid, Lavender Brown, for a brief chat. "The wizarding world needs a bit of fun and frou frou right now," said a beaming Miss Brown at the Order of Merlin Award Presentation Dinner last week, where she accepted a Third Class honour.

When questioned as to the rumours of recent discord between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, Miss Brown was quick to quash any claims to such. "They're like any two young lovers, really. We're thrilled for them."

Harry Potter, who was not present to accept his Order of Merlin, First Class, has been curiously unwilling to offer any comment on the nuptials.

Speculations as to a love triangle between Malfoy, Granger and The Boy Who Triumphed have been vehemently denied by Ronald Weasley. Weasley was also present at the Award Dinner to accept the seven First Class Honours and eighteen Second Class Honours on behalf of all the recipient members of Dumbledore's Army. Weasley did provide some comment on the rumours, but unfortunately, Witch Weekly is unable to publish it at this time, due to stringent censorship regulations.

We continue to maintain vigil outside Malfoy Manor, where Miss Granger has been known to pay intermittent visits over the past three months.

In related news, no further updates as yet concerning the final guest list of the Draco Malfoy Bachelor Party, which is undoubtedly the second most sought after invitation in wizarding society this decade.

**

The soldiers of Dumbledore's Army are delighted to present:

The Bachelor Party of Draco Lucius Sebastien Euphemer Malfoy!

Join us for an evening of drinks, entertainment and old-fashioned,

wizarding debauchery. Venue: The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade Village

Time: 7pm

Dress code: '1920s Muggle-Wear'

RSV- Owl upon receipt.

**

The invitations were mauve, God damn it.

"They look pink to me," Neville Longbottom muttered, as he sent an owl out his office window with a fresh delivery of crisp mauve and cream envelopes.

Draco folded his arms. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his feet up on Neville's cluttered desk. A novelty Golden Snitch (charmed to heckle when one was looking for something misplaced, which in Neville's case, was quite often), inched dangerously close to the edge of the table.

"Watch that, please," Neville requested. "It's an early Wheezes prototype. Collectors' item, you know."

This was not news to Draco, due to the fact that Neville had taken on the position of Marketing Liaison for Fred and George Weasley's ridiculously successful business venture. As such, Neville's office was stacked, floor to ceiling, with numerous other Wheezes originals, best sellers, memorable one offs and prototypes.

It was the prototypes Draco knew to stay clear of.

"Not that I mind pink," Neville backtracked, casting an RSVP Charm over the remaining ten invitations. He did this rather well, with a casual confidence that had bloomed late, but strong.

"That's good, Longbottom," Draco returned, "only the invitations to my bachelor party are mauve. And cream. On very nice, very expensive, embossed, parchment. With a burgundy trim."

Neville nodded, a look of infernal understanding settling over his round face. "Hermione's idea then? To have them all in pinks?"

Three weeks to go, Draco reminded himself, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The things one did for love. Although these days, given the extreme and cruel neglect he was suffering at Hermione Granger's very capable, small hands, Draco thought it had to be lust.

Ignoring Neville, which was slightly harder to do lately, since Neville had taken to dying his hair an offensive, fluorescent yellow, Draco resumed the task of signing off on the remaining invitations.

He paused on the last one, which was addressed to a 'Mister Alastor Quincy Moody'.

"Who the bloody hell invited Moody?" Draco demanded.

Neville paused in his lick-fold-lick rhythm. Draco was exhausted and not a little bit cranky. Neville knew this because Draco had been resorting to thinly veiled insults, open slander and crass comments over the past hour, regarding everything from the guests list to the choice of finger foods. This was all well below his usual standard of cutting, yet subtle.

The poor man, thought Neville, watching as Draco scowled at Moody's invitation, he really needed a good, long, lie down.

"Harry wanted to invite Moody...something about saving his life three or four times? I forget," Neville shrugged. "Now where did I put that seal?" The Golden Snitch on the table began to hop about, making inappropriate comments about Neville's weight, dress sense and hair, in that particular order.

"Am I done here?" Draco asked, signing his name on Moody's invitation and throwing his quill down on the desk.

"Yeah. Off you go. Get some rest, Malfoy. You look like Hagrid after a bender."

"Sod off, Longbottom," retorted Draco, but without any feeling. Picking up his business satchel, he exited Neville's office in three long-legged strides, and made his way down the third floor corridor of Wheezes Enterprises. A very faint pop of Disapparition could be heard a moment later.

Neville hummed a half forgotten Shirley Bassey tune to himself (his grandmother had been partial to Shirls) as he slipped Moody's invitation into an envelope.

Yes, some time spent at home in Hermione's soothing presence would do any man a world of good.