Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter charaters…. etc, etc
Note: Sorry it took so long to update, have been traveling for work. This chapter was suppose to be longer and Hermione was suppose to make her appearance but I haven't quite finished that part so I decided to post and make that part of chapter three.
Chapter 2: Background
"And just where do you think you're going Zabini," Draco demanded half an hour later as he caught the taller man by the shoulder.
His so called friend had abandoned him to the pack of harpies fifteen minutes earlier after dubiously exclaiming something about getting refreshments. Blaise had never returned. Instead Draco had glimpsed a familiar head of glossy black curls inching toward the doorway and escape from the corner of his eye. There was no bloody way Blaise was leaving him behind.
"Draco! I was just heading out for a breath of fresh air, it's quite the crush in here you know!"
"Breath of fresh air my arse –"
"Now, now I don't believe that is the proper language to be using in the company of ladies," Blaise grinned.
"Admit it, you were trying to escape," Draco hissed.
"I wouldn't dream of it." Blaise grinned, "While we're on the subject though, how did you manage to escape."
"Never in a million years would I have ever believed I would be saying this, but thank God for Harry Potter." Draco glanced back over his shoulder at his former fan club. The colorful mob now surrounded a dark haired man with a trademark scar on his forehead.
Harry Potter, the Duke of Gryffindor was probably the only man in all of England that was more sought after than Draco. Draco, Blaise and Potter were all the same age and had attended school together. Due to some rather tragic events, Potter was the youngest Duke in a decade.
Potter was also considered a national war hero. Serving as a spy during the war with France, Potter had collected valuable strategic battle plans that played a crucial role in the ensuing defeat. Potter's hero status served to add fame to his name and value to his stock as a potential husband. For once Draco was grateful for it, it kept the battering eyelashes away from him.
Because of Potter's title and hero status, Draco was forced to be polite, but just barely. Draco had disliked Potter since their school days and the dislike was mutual. But since they both moved in the same circles, they inevitably cross paths and when they met there was only cold nodding civility. Blaise and Potter got on better, since Blaise too had worked for the War Office.
With his jet black hair and emerald eyes, Draco had to admit, privately of course – in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind that would never see the light, that Potter was a han..a hand…(he could do this, gritting his teeth Draco forced himself to finish the thought)… a handsome man - if one liked that type. There he had done it!
But Draco observed with a confident smirk, no one could deny that he himself was handsomer, taller and had much better style than Potter. Draco eyed Potter's cravat critically, you would think that a Duke could afford a decent groom. That cravat knot was utterly last year. And plain black and white, how boring! But then again what else could he expect from ….
"Draco! Are you paying attention?" Blaise's amused voice interrupted his further critique of young duke.
"Sorry I was distracted by Potter's charming attire."
Blaise followed Draco's gaze and swept Potter's figure with a critical eye. Blaise was easily one of best dressed men among the Ton. His clothing was dashing, expensive and always immaculately elegant. "Utterly boring!," Blaise pronounced with a curl of his lip echoing Draco's last thought.
"Yes well, the ladies don't seem too bored. And now that he has their attention what say we make our leave and head to the club?" Draco inquired.
Blaise sighed, "As truly inviting as that sounds, I can't leave yet."
Draco looked surprised, "Why ever not, you seemed eager to escape earlier?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"As I was trying to explain to you while you were so captivated with Potter, I wasn't trying to escape. I was making my way to the entrance so I could get a clear view, I am looking for someone."
"Looking for someone," Draco raised his brows. "Who would you be meeting here instead of at the club?" He waggled his eyebrows and grinned roguishly, "Could it be a lady perhaps? You can tell me, I'm your best friend. Who is this delicate flower that has caught the ever elusive Lord Zabini's attention?"
Blaise hesitated for a moment and then released a long suffering sigh, "I suppose I will have to tell you." He shot Draco an annoyed look, "If I don't you'll probably take it upon yourself to find out anyway. The person I am meeting is indeed a lady – but not the kind that you're thinking of," he added quickly at Draco's leer. Blaise dragged Draco toward the stairs of the entrance. Once there, he release him and scanned the room, "I'm looking for my sister."
"Your sister!" Draco exclaimed, surprised clearly written on his face. Although he had never met Blaise's younger half sister, he was well aware of her existence.
Blaise's father, a well respected lord, also worked for the War Office and perished when his ship overturned during a routine mission when Blaise was eight. Blaise's beautiful mother, the only daughter of a wealthy French Vicount, remarried another English lord two years later. A year after that, Blaise had a new half sister.
Sadly Blaise's new stepfather died six years ago of pneumonia. After the loss of her second husband, his mother decided to move back to her ancestral home and native country taking her young daughter with her. As an independent man, Blaise had no difficulties dividing his time between England and France. A year later, Blaise's mother passed away as well leaving the sole guardianship of his younger sister in Blaise's hand.
Blaise had stepped up to the role and took it very seriously. From what Draco could tell Blaise adored his half sister. He doted on her when she was younger and was still highly protective of her. Whenever Blaise spoke of her, the normally nonchalant look in his eye was replaced with an affectionate gleam.
Blaise had made the conscious decision to let her continue her education abroad instead of returning to England. Blaise had also spent most of the last five years on the Continent with her. Draco had disagreed with Blaise's decision at the time pointing out the unstable political waters of France and Blaise's own involvement with the War Office. Blaise had dismissed his argument with a simple, "She'll be safe enough with me." Draco had let the matter go with little effort; after all it wasn't his sister.
But the war was over now and everything had turned out fine. Draco had been vastly relieved that his best friend, and the closest thing he had to a brother, had escaped the war unscathed. So had his sister.
From the way Blaise spoke of her, Draco surmised that Blaise's sister was quite an independent spirit herself. In fact most of the time when Blaise talked about her, Draco forgot that she was female. Which was why he was so surprised. Blaise always spoke of her as if she were one of his mates, he even called her Hermes. What was her real name again?
Draco frowned, "Your sister, her name's Helen or was it Harmony?"
"Hermione, her name is Hermione." Blaise rolled his eyes, it was typical Draco not to remember a lady's name. "Her-mi-oh-knee," he enunciated very slowly as if speaking to a dimwitted child.
Draco gave him a strange look. He chuckled to himself at the private joke that he knew Draco did not understand.
"Anyway I have decided it is time for her to find husband and get married. She's turning 19; I'm told that's the age when ladies are supposed to be husband hunting."
"Well don't you get any thoughts about me!" Draco exclaimed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
It was Blaise's turned to look surprised. He was stunned speechless for a long moment before he began laughing hysterically. And loudly.
Draco elbowed sharply in the ribs and gave a furtive glance around. Several heads from neighboring clusters had turned curiously toward them. Lord Zabini laughing hysterically with Marquess Malfoy was certainly not a common sight. A cold glare from Draco sent their heads reeling back around.
"You," Blaise choked out, finally getting himself under control. "Why would I have thoughts about you! I certainly don't want her marrying you!"
"And just what, may I ask, is wrong with me," Draco looked down his nose at Blaise and crossed his arms imperiously.
"Who are you trying to fool Malfoy? You're not husband material, you couldn't even remember her given name. And may I remind you that you don't want to get married."
"I don't want to get married, but if I did I would be considered first rate husband material. I am considered first rate husband material." He nodded toward the swarm still surrounding Potter. "Just ask them."
Blaise glanced briefly in Potter's direction. "Well they are welcome to you. And I won't deny that you can have your pick of them, but I don't want you for a brother-in-law. Good lord, I know you too well, it would be a disaster."
Draco's reply was cut off by a clap on his shoulder.
"Malfoy! Zabini! Thank God you're here, I've been bored out of my mind!" a familiar masculine voice greeted them.
They turned to find a cheerful Lord Adrian Pucey entering their small circle. Though he was three years older than Blaise and Draco, the three had met and become friend during their school days. Tall, dark haired, and roguishly handsome, Adrian was a heartthrob among the ladies. His charm was legendary, his mischief-filled green eyes made women swoon, and his wild reputation made them want to tame him.
"Pucey!," Blaise greeted him with a grin. "I didn't know you were in the market for a wife."
Adrian returned the grin. "No, but it never hurts to look! I can't believe you're here though Malfoy, all those fillies and their nags are setting traps with your name on it."
"Blame Blaise, it is entirely his fault that I am here," he glared a Blaise. Blaise smiled and bowed mockingly in return. "Luckily Potter is a sufficient enough distraction."
"Not any more." Adrian nodded toward the dance floor. "He asked one to dance and it looks like the others have set their sights on you again."
Blaise and Draco swung their heads toward the spot that Potter previously filled. It was empty. And the multicolored herd of young women was moving their way.
Draco swore softly, a hunted look on his face. He stooped low and headed toward the nearest door cursing his platinum hair. It was practically a beacon. Damn it! He could already see several heads in the herd scanning the room for his trademark hair. Like moths to a flame. "I hate you Zabini," he muttered as he made a mad dash to freedom.
