Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.


After making an inquiry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione managed to find someone else willing to work on the project; Audrey Edwards, a former Ravenclaw who had been at Hogwarts a few years ahead of Hermione, Harry and Ron.

Over the past week, the two had worked tirelessly, sorting out all of the details of the New Blood Program, finalizing the legal information and planning the dinner where the pure-bloods and muggle-borns would get to know each other.

"So, this is it," Audrey said, as the two young women stood outside the Daily Prophet office in Diagon Alley.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Hermione said, sliding the finished announcement through the slot next to the door. "And by tomorrow morning, everyone will know."


"No way in hell," Draco Malfoy muttered, nearly dropping The Prophet into his breakfast. The Ministry certainly did intend to make former Death Eaters suffer.

"What was that?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, giving her son an appraising look.

"Nothing, mother." Draco handed the paper over to her. "Look at this."

Narcissa read the headline, and Draco watched his mother's eyes widen in shock as she scanned the rest of the article. She finished reading, then slowly placed the paper down on the table.

"Well," she said. "This is certainly an unexpected turn of events."

Draco stared at his mother in disbelief. "You can't be suggesting that I'd—"

"I'm not telling you to sign up right now, but it's definitely worth your consideration," Narcissa said. "I don't like this—" She gestured towards the newspaper "—any more than you do, but if you stand trial in front of the Wizengamot next week like you're supposed to, you have a very small chance of getting out of Azkaban."

"Yes, but you can't possibly be suggesting that I would tarnish the family name for a get-out-of-jail-free card," Draco said. "Anyway, if I talk to the right people, there's a good chance that I could stay out on my own."

"Draco," Narcissa sighed, her tone becoming more serious, "This is not a game. We have already lost your father, and I am willing to do anything to ensure that the same doesn't happen to you."

"That may be true, but you're not the one who'd have to dirty the family name by marrying a mudblood," Draco retorted.

"Don't you think the family name has been dirtied enough by our involvement with the Dark Lord?" Narcissa asked. "We've tried to hold onto the old ways for so long that it's bringing about our downfall. Obsession with blood purity is what's causing all the old families to die out, and it will happen to the Malfoys too, if you're stuck in Azkaban for the rest of your life!"

Draco stared at his mother in shock. It was rare for her to ever raise her voice, let alone at him. She was usually above petty squabbles, and prefered to solve disagreements more diplomatically.

"I didn't know that you felt that way," Draco said, carefully, then paused. "Have you been talking to Andromeda again?"

"Yes," Narcissa said, "And I'll remind you that her grandson is the one who will inherit this house when you go to Azkaban, since you show no desire to stay in possession of it!"

"Well, maybe I'd be a little more motivated if I knew some half-breed brat were going to rob me of my inheritance."

Narcissa suppressed a smile. "I want you to apply. You have nothing to lose, and we don't even know if they'd accept you at this point."

"Fine," Draco acquiesced, then started as a thought struck him. "Wait. What about Astoria?"

"You'll have to explain the situation to her," Narcissa said.

Draco rolled his eyes. "We've been betrothed since we were children. Am I supposed to say, 'Oh, sorry Astoria, I know we've been betrothed forever, but I can't marry you now, because I have to marry a muggle-born or else rot for all eternity in Azkaban?'"

"Well, you can't very well marry her, and expect her to wait until you get out of Azkaban—if you ever did." Draco was silent, and Narcissa continued. "I'll ask the Greengrasses over for tea this afternoon. The sooner you tell her, the better. Although I do hope—for your sake—that you can think of a better way to phrase it."


Draco spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon sifting through the massive pile of paperwork he received in the packet which accompanied the announcement in the newspaper, all the while cursing The Ministry of Magic, his mother, and whatever idiot was behind this New Blood Program.

By the time he had filled out the third roll of parchment asking stupid questions about his favorite color, quidditch team, and flavor of ice cream, it was already time for tea.

His mother received Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass on the terrace, while Draco and Astoria went for a stroll through the extensive gardens at the rear of the Manor.

"I assume you have a reason for inviting us over at such short notice," Astoria said, as they entered a small courtyard. She perched on the edge of a marble bench, and gazed up at Draco expectantly. Draco couldn't help but stare. Her green dress bought out the color of her eyes, and her dark, silky hair shone in the sunlight. She was, Draco thought, the picture of good breeding and pure-blood high society.

"I do, actually," Draco said, taking the spot beside her. "There isn't really a right way to say this," he paused. "I assume you saw the headline of The Prophet this morning?"

Astoria nodded, sensing where he was going with this. "Are you going to try to get out of Azkaban?"

"My mother says it's my best chance to stay out of jail."

Astoria caught his gaze. "Do you agree with her?"

"I think she's right," Draco said. "I wanted to talk to you about it, though. This betrothal is an agreement between both of our families, but more importantly, between the two of us."

"I see," Astoria said.

Draco continued. "If I were to choose that path, we'd have to break off the betrothal, and I'd have to marry a mudblood. If not, there's still the trial in a week, and I have a small chance of being able to marry you instead."

"Draco," Astoria said, with a small smile, "I wouldn't want you to risk going to Azkaban just for the sake of making a good marriage." She reached out to take his hand. "I think we both know that in any trial, the odds would be swayed heavily against you. Don't misunderstand me—I don't really want to let you go, but I'd rather have you marry someone else, even a muggle-born, than live out your life in Azkaban. If this is your only chance to have the rest of your life, I think you should take it."

"Are you completely sure?" Draco asked. "There's still a chance—"

She cut him off by placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'm positive."

"Alright." Draco said, smiling slightly in spite of himself, and the two stood up. He met Astoria's gaze a final time. "You're sure you'll be happy?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "And I'm sure you will too, eventually. There are plenty of muggle-borns who would be lucky to have you." She paused. "You might just want to erase the word 'mudblood' from your vocabulary, though."


A/N: Thanks for reading, constructive criticism is appreciated!