AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey all! Picking up another story to do with the infamous Marriage Law! Please stay tuned.

Also, forgive me if there are any ridiculous spelling mistakes, I don't have a beta but if anyone is interested or know someone who is please let me know!

QUICK DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I claim that this 'Marriage Law' idea is solely my own. Some characters (and wizarding departments) will be made up and of course, as this is a Dramione fanfic, will not wholeheartedly follow the proper events of the novels/movies.

OTHERWISE, ENJOY!

Vaudeville of Fire

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Hermione Granger did not like to be kept waiting.

In fact, she detested it.

The curly haired war heroine stormed through the obsidian and emerald establishment of the Ministry of Magic, assuming a frightful air of belligerence and impatience. You'd think they'd opt for a different colour scheme after all these years. Something cheerier, perhaps? She thought angrily. Huffing like a brat, she ignored the awe-inspired stares of those she passed. It had been five years since the war that she'd even stepped foot in the Ministry, after all.

A painstaking forty minutes full of dumbfounded stares and sneaky camera flashes later, Hermione found herself entering the Department of Magical Registry which to her amusement was a four-year-old addition and improvement to the archaic Wizarding British government. She wrinkled her nose at the dusty scent. It wasn't quite like the library at Hogwarts which was muskier and welcoming rather than spicy and thick like the waiting area she passed through.

She noticed that the waiting area was full. Though, it didn't surprise her. The soft cries of a girl no older than eighteen could be heard from the corner of the room. Hermione watched as an older woman comforted her. She gritted her teeth.

Eyes still trained on the crying girl, Hermione stomped forward. Unsuspectingly, the side of her face smacked into something hard, sending her staggering back from its darned force. She heard an obnoxious growl of disgust and a curse, one which she tried to ignore as she steadied herself and straightened her jacket.

"What's wrong, Granger? Did that abhorrent shrubbery you call hair obscure you from watching where the fuck you were going?"

The voice was familiar, Hermione supposed, albeit a tad deeper and perhaps even angrier? She hadn't thought that was possible. Not from him, at least. She turned her face towards him with a scowl, quickly taking in his pale and angular features before scoffing in his face. Prat.

"Best be on your way, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, cupping a hand behind her ear and raising both her eyebrows for a show, pretending to listen intently, "I think I hear your daddy calling."

Malfoy's pale eyebrows dipped and furrowed in frustration, his top lip curling in snobbish disgust as he looked down his nose at her like the proper brat he was. He didn't even grace her with a reply, instead, he just grumbled and shoved past her, brushing his shoulder against hers rather aggressively.

"Just my luck," she muttered to herself, irritated. Her first day back in London and she runs into Malfoy of all people? She scrunched her nose in annoyance. What a lovely day.

Already in a foul mood, she opened the door at the far end of the room without knocking. The words Registrar's Office spread across the opaque glass window in large bold and arrogant letters. At first, she felt a little rude that she'd barged in unannounced, her mother had raised her with manners of course! However, she thought that if they were going to ruin the rest of her life, the Ministry was no longer deserving of her politeness.

The room was rather large but for some reason, it felt tiny to Hermione. She didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was the abundance of bookshelves and stray parchments, or the abandoned food wrappers were strewn across the plush plum carpet. Perhaps, Hermione glanced around the dark panelled walls, that it was the lack of windows. Whatever the reason, Hermione couldn't escape the claustrophobic air of it all.

There was a desk in the centre-back of the room, small and cluttered with books, papers, and parchments. Behind it sat a frumpy middle-aged woman wearing crooked rectangular glasses with her deep brown curls piled on top of her head in a messy attempt at a bun. She looked nice enough. Too bad Hermione would have to eat her alive to get her way with this stupid law.

Only after Hermione cleared her throat did the woman look away from whatever she was scribbling down on parchment to meet her eyes. With a startled 'oh!' she began to gather up her papers and roll up some parchments in order to make room. "Miss Granger, I-I'm so sorry. Allow me to get myself in order." She mumbled, a bit flustered. "P-Please, take a seat."

Hermione nodded and pursed her lips as she gingerly lowered herself into one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Waiting. Again. The chair creaked under her weight, filling the room with the type of awkwardness following such a loud noise in a bitterly silent room. Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from appearing immature as an awkward laugh tried to escape from her. She really had to stop laughing when she felt uncomfortable. It only worsened the situation.

"Miss-"

Her eyes darted to the name plaque.

"- Yearwood, surely you must understand the… the ramifications. I've paid my dues to the Ministry, I do believe that I owe them no more." She said in the most polite tone she could muster. "Plus, I'm certain that the next generation will not be… lacking. In any way. There must be hundreds of couples already planning what the Ministry is trying to enforce and-"

She stopped as Miss Yearwood looked up from the clutter on her desk with a questioning expression. Her eyebrow was cocked obliviously and her round hazel eyes regarded her with confusion. "S-Sorry, Miss Granger. I-I wasn't paying attention, come again?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut with an audible click as she tried to restrain herself from screaming bloody murder. One…two…three…four…five… She closed her eyes and counted slowly, biting the inside of her cheek for the second time in this office.

Miss Yearwood sensed that Hermione was furious and made the clever decision to not press her again. Instead, she just assumed a small and shaky smile before suggesting that they wait for the second party to arrive to discuss the details.

Hermione grumbled in her seat and crossed her ankles. No. She did not want to wait for another forty bloody minutes. She wanted answers. And she wanted them now.

"Miss Yearwood," Hermione pushed through clenched teeth, "I demand to at least know who I've been paired up with for this cruel and unjustified state of affairs. You can at least offer me that, can't you?"

Miss Yearwood seemed to be at a crossroads by the uncertain look she presented as she straightened her crooked glasses, only to have them slip down her nose at an unbearable angle once more. She shuffled a stack of papers nervously, before inhaling to calm herself down. "As you wish, Miss Granger."

At Miss Yearwood's surrender, Hermione perked and straightened in her seat. Finally, she thought. Absentmindedly, Hermione leant forward to regard Miss Yearwood evenly and without aversion, which came to be very difficult as she fidgeted underneath the heat of Hermione's gaze.

"W-Well," Miss Yearwood began shakily, "as you surely know by now that the Ministry of Magic has since passed a law that would permit a witch to marry a wizard in order to… copulate-" Hermione snorted and admired the woman's ability to make a sausage-sinking sound like a scientific endeavour. "- which would, in turn, increase the wizarding population by an expected seventy-five percent by 2013. Now I know such numbers seem to be almost impossible in ten years' time Miss Granger, but I assure you that due to the condition that a couple must reproduce at least two children to satisfy their ten-year contract-"

"Ten years?" Hermione exclaimed, her shock clear and evident. She couldn't believe the insanity of it all. To devote ten years to some stranger and hopefully, pop out a couple of sprogs by the end of it? Hell no. That's torture.

"Y-Yes. Ten years, Miss Granger." Miss Yearwood cleared her throat awkwardly before continuing. "However, not only does this law result in the increase of the population of Wizarding Britain, but the Ministry's secondary goal is to discourage prejudices against allegiances that remain from the war. Such is the case with House rivalry left over from Hogwarts. We believe that such partialities catalysed the rivalry of Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, and Purebloods alike."

Hermione felt disappointed in herself when she couldn't present a counter argument. Five years have passed and there are no more 'sides', but Hermione couldn't shake the disgust that pooled in the depths of her stomach like tar at the idea of marrying a former Death Eater.

Miss Yearwood licked her lips anxiously, before clearing her throat awkwardly once more. "As for your partner Miss Granger… we have conducted a range of compatibility assessments that analyse an individual's personality and intelligence as well as other essentials like blood-status." A pause. "Although, you must not fear being physically hurt by your partner. The contract is charmed to prevent any kind of physical violence that may come to you either from your partner or someone acting on behalf of them."

Hermione nodded solemnly, one arm across her stomach with the elbow of the other resting on top of it. Her hand couched her chin, a finger scratching delicately at her jaw. Miss Yearwood opened her mouth to continue but was interrupted by the opening of the office door. In a fright, she rose from her seat, nearly knocking it over in her haste. "M-Mister M-"

"I think you're in the wrong room, Granger. This is my meeting."

Hermione's face curled in aggravation at the voice she'd heard one too many times today. She spun wildly in her seat to glare at the tall ferret leaning against the doorway, a smug yet agitated look on his face. "Shove off, Malfoy. I'm in the middle of something here."

"Listen here, you abominable-"

"How dare you come-"

"Ahem!"

Silence filled the room, followed by awkwardness. Hermione had to force herself to let out a small uncomfortable giggle. Bloody hell.

All eyes fell on Miss Yearwood who stood with both palms flat on her desk. Her glasses slid further down her nose, the lenses fogging up at her indignant huffing. Hermione spun away from Malfoy and crossed her arms with an exaggerated sigh. She really was such a brat today.

"Please take a seat, Mister Malfoy."

"I'd rather stand."

Hermione snorted. Of course, he did. Prat.

"Very well." Miss Yearwood lowered herself into her chair with a deep breath. Calmly, she began. "Mister Malfoy. Miss Granger. The two of you have-"

"No way," Hermione muttered.

"-Been paired by the Ministry-"

"No fucking way."

"-To engage in an official marriage that will bind you for the next ten years-"

"Oh, dear God."

"-By which you will reproduce at least two children by the end of that term."

Silence. Awkwardness.

Hermione spluttered and snorted as she tried to trap her giggle. She failed.

In a shocking display, Hermione spat out a delirious laugh. It echoed throughout the office, eliciting a stunned stare from Miss Yearwood and the blonde little ferret. She slapped both hands over her mouth, her cheeks red from the shock and mortification that threatened to swallow her whole.

Just her luck. Not only did she bump into him on her first day back in London, but she was getting married to him too! Merlin must hate her. Surely.

Hermione continued to giggle as her mind flitted over her memories at Hogwarts. She remembered the snotty little brat that called her a Mudblood and made her life a living hell. She remembered the time his hex hit her and her teeth began to jut out of her mouth. She remembered seeing him crash Slughorn's Christmas party and listening to Harry tell her about his insanity throughout that year. She remembered poor Katie Bell and that damn opal necklace. She remembered Bellatrix Lestrange. She remembered him. Draco Malfoy and his goddamn superiority complex.

And now she was going to be his wife.

A guttural sound of disgust came from behind her. "Oh great. She's insane."

Hermione choked down her impossible laugh and glared over her shoulder. She was about to insult him with some ferret-themed onslaught when she was so rudely interrupted by Miss Yearwood. "A copy of the contract will be owled to both your residences before the end of the week. The Ministry desires it to be signed by next Monday, no excuses I'm afraid."

"And if it isn't?" Malfoy asked, his voice assuming some kind of intimidating and authoritarian tone as he glared down at Miss Yearwood. "Suppose I rip it up and feed it to my owl instead, what circumstances would I face?"

Hermione fought another snort. For once, she didn't think that'd be a bad idea. She watched Miss Yearwood expectedly.

Miss Yearwood smiled solemnly and sighed, "Unfortunately the Ministry is quite strict with this law. Your wand and your magical contract will be terminated."

Terminated. Terminated. Terminated. Terminated.

The words echoed in her skull, making it pound and spin like it'd been through the wringer. She glanced up at Malfoy and felt shocked as she locked eyes with him. For the first time in those stormy silver orbs of his, she found an emotion that replicated what she was feeling in her gut. Sorrow. Fear. Anxiety. She'd seen it all in the split second he let his guard down and he'd noticed it too, he noticed her mind prying through the wasteland of his own. His guard went up quicker than it came down, and soon enough she saw nothing. Just shiny glass-like eyes. Empty.

"Well." He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose slowly. He looked exhausted and his voice sounded coarse. "I'll send my lawyer shall there be any need for amendments."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow and nodded meekly. She'd never seen this side of Draco Malfoy before. Hell, she hadn't seen any side except for the insufferable and cowardly git he was just a few moments ago. In this moment, he was calm and professional, as if the war hadn't happened, as if Voldemort hadn't happened. In this moment, he was just a wealthy wizard with some heavy-handed influence. It confused her greatly. She still couldn't gather up the courage to speak, but what he suggested had seemed pretty reasonable to her. Not that she'd ever admit it.

"One more thing," Miss Yearwood said, holding a finger up to catch their attention. Hermione groaned inwardly, and she could've sworn she heard Malfoy curse. "I understand that the two of you have been living overseas for quite some time now. Unfortunately, as Wizarding British citizens you must resume your residency here for the duration of your ten years. It's so that we can keep up to date with your efforts for reproduction."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "So, we are to be your guinea pigs? I have a home. A home that I want to go back to. How dare-"

"And what of my work, Miss Yearwood? Travel is essential." Malfoy frowned, stepping forward to slap a palm down on her desk, "If I am to be set back even for a day, then I swear to Merlin I will have this entire department shut-"

Miss Yearwood cleared her throat and interrupted the both of them vehemently. "I said nothing about travel, Mister Malfoy. Of course, the Ministry has taken the careers and previous homes of individuals into consideration and will, therefore, grant an International Apparition License to those who have been listed as in necessary need of it. As a Curse-Breaker, you fit this category."

Curse-breaker? How fitting. Hermione grumbled. Of course, he was a Curse-Breaker. What profession would allow Malfoy to earn a living out of taking gold from ancient tombs?

"And as for you, Miss Granger. I'm sure a position at the Ministry will be readily available to the Brightest Witch of Our Age. I'm sure Mister Harry Potter-"

"I'll be fine." Hermione interrupted, her scowl deepening. She could feel Malfoy's curious gaze burning a bloody hole in her skull. Bloody idiot.

Miss Yearwood seemed satisfied, judging by the way she stood up and extended a hand for either Hermione or Malfoy to shake. "Very well, then. I hope you have a-"

Her words came to a sporadic end when both Hermione and Malfoy left. Hermione had risen from her chair so quickly that it began to topple on its two hind legs before settling back on all four, she hadn't even noticed as she stomped out the room. Malfoy had pushed himself off the desk with an audible sound of disgust and followed suit, his crisp dark robes billowing out behind him like an obsidian cloud.

"…nice day."

Hermione had been staying in a shoddy inn on the outskirts of Hogsmeade for three days since her encounter with Malfoy and Miss Yearwood. Not one to withhold herself from the inevitable, she had found a quaint cottage up for rent in Godric's Hollow. The memory of her and Harry's Christmas Eve still haunted her as did the horror of Bathilda Bagshot andNagini. She wasn't sure if Godric Hollow was the right place to be, but judging from the level of rebuilding still needed from the war, she was sure that she wouldn't find another place at such short notice.

A garish screech assaulted her ears the moment she stepped through the dark double doors of her pacific lodge style house, forcing her to grimace at its sound. She noticed a monstrosity of an owl swoop through her newly furnished living room, its white and grey feathers fluttering as it dropped a large manila folder onto the coffee table. The contents of the folder spilled out across the surface, and the owl just screeched again as it perched itself on the back of her couch. Its beady gold eyes watched Hermione expectedly, waiting for a treat. Hermione rolled her eyes at the owl's sheer audacity. It must be Malfoy's.

She reached into her bag, her entire arm filtering through the extended depths. Her fingers curled around what she hoped was a food wrapper and she pulled it out. As a sign of peace, Hermione inched towards the owl with her hand outstretched, a small biscuit hovering between her fingers. The owl eyed her and nipped at her fingers, eliciting from her a sharp hiss as the cruel little thing stole the biscuit straight from her palm and flew away, screeching a goodbye.

Shaking her head with a sigh, Hermione stalked over to the manila folder and shuffled its contents. Amongst the stack of papers was a black envelope with a deep green wax seal, the Malfoy family crest glinting in the fire lit room. She rolled her eyes and reached to pick it up.

At her slightest touch, the envelope flew into the air and began to vibrate, swishing this way and that. Within seconds, the wax seal had formed tightly pressed lips and the flap of the envelope opened the slightest bit on either side to create eyes. A Howler? She thought.

"Hmm…" The envelope began, in a voice that was surely Draco Malfoy's. "Good evening, dear wife. I'm sure you have settled nicely in whatever shack you could get your hands on-"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"-I had my lawyer look over this abomination the Ministry calls a contract and she has made some amendments that I require you to look over. Of course, I don't expect you to understand legal jargon so perhaps you could hire a lawyer of your own? I hear Connor MacLaggen is positively itching for new clients."

She snorted out a laugh before clearing her throat inelegantly. Malfoy wasn't funny. He was an abhorrent wanker with a penchant for ruining lives and following Dark Wizards. Snobby little brat.

She'll show him.

The envelope continued, floating around her living room like it owned the place. Hermione wondered how, even as a piece of folded paper, Draco Malfoy still managed to project a baronial and resplendent air. Merlin, she felt ridiculous being intimidated by a bloody envelope.

"Since we have no way escaping our cruel, cruel fate, I suggest we meet for lunch. I made reservations for midday tomorrow. You'll accept." Hermione couldn't help but scrunch her nose up at the order. He didn't even ask, just demanded. "Have a lovely night, sweetheart."

The envelope began to unravel itself, but before it could, his voice broke out again. "Oh, and before I forget. The Weasley clan is asking for you. I hope that when we are married, they will stay out of my office." The envelope then tore itself to shreds, little fragments of black paper scattering across her floor. Bastard. He probably knew she'd have to clean his mess up.

Hermione stared in disbelief at the remnants of his letter. The Weasley clan? Since when did they speak to Draco Malfoy?

Heaving a sigh, Hermione grumbled her distaste for Draco Malfoy as she sifted through the papers he'd sent her. She'd gotten a copy from the Ministry earlier that day, but hadn't bothered to look at it once Malfoy had suggested amendments. She began to read:

BE IT KNOWN, this agreement is entered into on the 23rd day of February 2003, between DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY (hereinafter also referenced as "husband") and HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER (hereinafter also referenced as "wife").

Whereas, the parties contemplate legal marriage under the laws of the British Ministry of Magic, and it is their mutual desire to enter into this agreement so that they will continue to own and control their own property but do not desire that their present respective financial interests be changed by their marriage.(Hermione rolled her eyes at the underlined addition and scribbled section clearly made by Malfoy's lawyer, smart move. She could see the words 'and are getting married because of their love for one another' were vigorously crossed out before his amendment.)

It is agreed as follows:

1: Any and all property (and debts) which belongs to each of the above parties shall be, and shall forever remain, their personal estate, including all interest, rents, and profits which may accrue from said property, and said property shall remain forever free of claim by the other.

2: Both parties are to remain in holy matrimony for the full duration of the given ten year period and may be released from this contract only through death or terminal illness.

3: Before the end of the couple's ten-year period, they must reproduce at least two healthy children in order to increase the wizarding population and to breed out all remaining prejudices from the war and other rivalries.

4: It has been taken into consideration that both parties may need to travel for either familial or professional matters and will, therefore, be granted an International Apparition License upon signing their agreement to this contract.

Furthermore, it has been required by the Ministry of Magic that in order to replicate a secure lifestyle appropriate for children to be raised in, both DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY and HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER must simulate a domestic household.

Such conditions involve:

1: The owning of a household pet or familiar before the birth of a firstborn child as a means of replicating and practicing for parenthood.

2: Couples must live together in either a shared residence OR alternate between individual residences for the duration of their marriage.

3: Couples must be married within a year.

4: It is expected that couples copulate within the first six months of their official marriage and at least six to seven times a day to ensure maximum opportunity for reproduction.

Hermione dropped the contract with a disgusting bleuch at Malfoy's amendments. Again, she could see the words 'three to four' and 'a week' robustly crossed out. Six to seven times a day? Hermione thought. I'm not a bloody rabbit. Wrinkling her nose, she delved inside her bag and brought out a crumpled quill and dipped it in a travel inkpot. Furiously, she scribbled his bloody amendments out and wrote her own.

Grinning brightly, she held the contract at arm's length, admiring her work.

4: It is suggested that couples copulate within the first six months of their official marriage and at least twice a month to ensure maximum opportunity for reproduction.

There we go. Hermione thought, whistling a high upbeat tune. At the sound of her call, Bastian swooped through an open window, landing on the back of her couch, just where Malfoy's owl had been when he'd nipped at her fingers. Stupid thing.

She shuffled all the papers back into the folder and gathered up the black fragments of paper from his letter. Grinning devilishly, she shoved them messily into the folder and gave it to Bastian, along with a biscuit left over from Malfoy's owl. Hoo-ing, Bastian flew away.

She sunk into her couch and let her head fall as far as it could backwards. She closed her eyes and tried to think, but exhaustion gripped her. It dragged her deep within herself until she could no longer hear, feel or think about what was to come.

Hermione slipped into the warmth and darkness of sleep, completely oblivious to a certain blonde wizard standing outside her front door, arm raised and fist clenched, unsure of whether to knock.

The blonde looked down at the welcome mat and scuffed his polished shoes on it before leaving.