A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.
Matchmakers, Inc.: What happens when…?
Seamus Finnigan glanced quickly around the room then sent up a silent message to Dean Thomas. "Okay, Dean," he thought. "Wonderful genius that I am, I need your help on this one! Who is the perfect love for Harry James Potter?" At the moment, he was sitting quite comfortably on the leather lounge chair outside the conference room in which Harry endeavored to convince a roomful of stuffy old wizards that werewolves happened to make completely competent teachers.
Seamus thought it was a fool's errand but had shown up to provide 'moral support.' Besides, Lupin had been the only halfway DADA teacher they'd had in all their years at Hogwarts. Well, except for Mad Eye Moody, but he didn't think the new students should be subjected to …what was it? Constant Vigilance! Seamus chuckled quietly to himself and looked up in time to catch a flash of blond hair. Funny how it reminded him of…oh, wait. It was Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy was an odd one, even Seamus, with all his eccentricities, could admit that. Everyone thought he was the perfect Deatheater, yet in the end he'd turned right around, not only helping to destroy his own father but also bringing down most of the Deatheaters with the man. A tremendous help to Harry, that. Then he'd even gone so far as to decline any and all repayment, instead seeming to disappear for a full six months before returning as the head of a powerful new company. Draco Malfoy had gone into business designing and selling clothes with his one-time fiancée and best friend, Pansy Parkinson. Both of whom were single.
A slow grin spread across Seamus' face. Perfect. And how cliché. Potter and Malfoy, school-yard rivals, could complement one another in every way. He could already see it happening. Faintly, he heard a laugh that sounded too familiar and knew that, wherever he was, Dean agreed with him. Seamus settled back in the chair to plot his next course of action.
Harry walked briskly from the conference room, motioning with his hand for Seamus to follow him, and made his way quickly to his office. As soon as the door was closed and the silencing spell was in place, he let out a huge whoop. "I did it, Seamus! They're letting Remus go back for a year on probation!" Happily, the two jumped around the room, feeling very much like the third-years who had learned from the werewolf.
"That's amazing, Harry! How'd you do it?" Seamus asked the waved a hand, stopping any reply Harry would have given. "Scratch that. You're the bloody savior of the world. We should be more surprised that they didn't give in sooner." Harry couldn't stop his grin. "As much as I'd like to say it wasn't, that probably was the reason they agreed. At this point, I don't much care. I can't wait to tell Remus!" The brunet danced around the room, knowing it was undignified and not caring the Seamus was watching. When he'd calmed down enough to sit and begin his letter to Remus, the Irishman spoke again, leaning forward on the desk. "Well, then Harry, it being such wonderful news and all, why don't we have a party and celebrate." Harry sobered a bit and looked up to meet Seamus' gaze. "Are you…are you alright to have a party? Its only been a month since…the accident."
Seamus rolled his eyes and laughed to hide the burning sensation that meant tears were threatening. "Of course I'm alright. Didn't we agree to that already?" He straightened and walked to the door. "Besides, it's time for my return to the world. It's way too boring at home with no one's life to screw around with. So I'll make all the arrangements. You and Lupin meet me at the Three Broomsticks at seven tonight, okay?" Then the Irishman was gone. Harry rolled his eyes with a grin and returned to his letter. At least, Seamus was coping. He couldn't ask for anything else at this point.
"Absolutely not! No way in Hell am I going to that party, Pansy Parkinson, and you cannot make me!" The voice echoed out through the thick door of the office, startling the secretary at the desk outside into dropping her magazine. Inside the office, Draco Malfoy threw a half-finished shirt at his friend and business partner. Pansy caught the shirt and dropped it in the nearest chair before walking forward to stare at the man, hands on her hips in a way that screamed determination.
"And why not, Draco Malfoy? Have other plans for tonight, do you?" she asked snidely, already knowing the answer. The tall blond fell gracefully into his chair. "You know I don't Pansy. But how could you agree to me going?" He leaned forward to glare at her. "You know I do not exactly get along with Potter and his friends." Pansy waved a dismissive hand as she dropped into her own seat. "Please, Draco. Understatement of the century. You don't 'exactly get along' with anybody." Her brow arched as she leaned forward. "How did you expect me to turn down a request from Dean Thomas' lover on your behalf, hmm? You owe Dean too much for me to do that and we both know it."
Draco groaned as he nodded. True, it was the former Gryffindor who had helped him as he began his business. They had met in the art classes Dean taught in the evenings. From there, the other man had become his mentor, as much as it galled him to admit. Without Dean's help, Draco knew he wouldn't be sitting here as the head of a multi-million galleon organization, designing clothes as he'd always wanted to. "Alright, alright," he sighed. "I'll go." He looked up to glare at Pansy, who was grinning smugly. "I hate it when you guilt trip me. It's so bloody annoying."
Pansy stood and skipped to the door. "You better get started on choosing your clothes for tonight, Draco. Seamus knows some pretty cute dudes and he's in charge of the guest list." Draco felt himself flush. Honestly, tell the girl you think her ex has a nice ass once, and she never lets you forget it. Too bad the man's face hadn't been as nice. Or his personality, come to think of it. Draco got up to prepare for the party. Even if no one cute attended it, someone who designed and sold clothing for a living couldn't show up in anything that was less than perfect. What kind of publicity would that be?
A/N: Okay, there it is. Now that you've read it, how about a review, hmm? Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed! I kinda forgot to write down your names so I'll thank you properly in the next chapter. Promise!