Hey Sorry for such a long delay!! I was out of town for a whole week helping fix up houses for some of the poorer communities in the US… and I didn't have axcess to a computer or even my cell phone.. so sorry for the major delay hope you enjoy.. probably has like tons of errors, but I can't seem to find my beta anywhere and I tried to find most errors sorry if I do!!

Chapter 4

"What do you want, Draco? I'm a little swamped here in case you can't tell," said a highly frazzled Blaise Zabini when Draco walked in. He was currently rubbing the bridge of his nose, staring earnestly down at his company's records and trying to decipher the mess his vice president had created. He had stupidly allowed the bumbling man a go at gathering the records in profit and costs and consolidating it all down into one file. Unfortunately, this proved too difficult a challenge for the idiot and now Blaise was stuck going back over everything and reconsolidating it. Irritated already, he really wasn't in the mood to hear more of Draco's woes.

"I can see," the blonde responded. "I thought you already took care of all this? I would have directed it to some underling."

Gritting his teeth, Blaise glared up at his soon to be former best friend, "I did. Now I have to do it again."

Ignoring the look, Draco continued, "Sorry, mate. I feel for you, really I do."

"If you truly did, you would get out and leave me alone. You are still here, however, and I am forced to hear you speak," Blaise snapped.

Recognizing the dangerous tone in his friend's voice, Draco finally backed down, "I understand. I just need your opinion on one thing and I'll get out of your presence."

Blaise slowly raised his dark brown eyes to peer into pleading silver ones. Sighing, he lowered his quill and put aside his stack of parchment. Gesturing for Draco to continue, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his aching neck muscles. The blonde stepped forward and threw down a shrunken file he had pulled out of robe pocket.

"What is it?"

"This is a list of all the eligible witches and wizards I can marry using the family names the Malfoy Inheritance specified. Problem is about a half don't live here in Britain," Draco explained. He leaned onto Blaise's desk to read over his shoulder.

Still reviewing, Blaise asked, "Why is that a problem? You've dated a few foreign wizards."



"Because… I don't know," Draco hung his head, fingers coming up to brush through his hair. He took a ragged breath and looked over at Blaise, sitting calmly behind his desk, "It's the whole finalization of all this. I don't want to be married!"

Instantly, he jumped up and began to pace around the room, stopping occasionally to pick up objects at random and turn them over in his hands, "You know me, Blaise. I'm not the type to settle down. I can barely stay interested in one person for longer than a few weeks. Now I will be tied down for the rest of my life!"

Blaise stared blankly back at his friend, sympathy absent from his face, "Don't look to me, Draco, for answers. I'm not the sort who 'does' marriage. I really don't see what all the fuss is about, just marry some slightly attractive person and be done with it. You don't have to remain faithful. I never have and look at me."

Draco did. He saw success in every corner of the room and hanging from Blaise's robes. Wealthy and prestige were evident from the plaques and honors littering the walls. He knew for a fact that if he stepped outside the room he would find plenty of people whose sole job was to help their employer in any way, shape, or form. He could visualize the upscale loft Blaise owned on the fashionable side of town, filled to the brim with servants, collectibles, and rich furniture from all over the world. Blaise was known for his parties and crazy affairs, and therefore never alone; but at the same time the feeling of loneliness (or was it emptiness?) seemed to echo off the walls around him. The whole idea of living like that absolutely turned his stomach.

His thoughts began to take another turn. Instead of the stylishly furnished bachelor pad he and Blaise both owned, he envisioned Malfoy manor opened up again. Not only would his rooms be in use, but the parlor and formal dining room. Extra bedrooms filled with toys would be redone. He thought again of the blonde haired, green eyed children running up to him after a long day at the office. Someone to share his bed every night wouldn't be that difficult to get used to either.

"Honestly, all you have to do is once you get your heir on your spouse set them aside," Blaise's voice interrupted his fantasies. "So, you'll be bored for nine months; not that long if you look ahead at the bigger picture."

"An affair, Zabini? That's your good advice?" he spat.

Blaise shrugged his shoulders, "Don't look t me for romance, Malfoy. You want love and not lust; go to Theodore."

"I guess setting someone aside wouldn't be that impossible. Only my bank account will be truly affected," Draco agreed rather reluctantly.



Glad his advice was being considered, Blaise moved onto the more pressing problem, "Now foreign wizards. Once again, not that big of an issue. Most of the German wizards I have come in contact with through different business deals and other more illicit dealings have appeared to be up to caliber."

"I agree, but how am I to know that these are as well?"

"Simple really. You do it the old fashion way. Go on a few dates, Draco. It won't kill you."

"Yes, but it could be as painful as the Cruciatus Curse," Draco muttered under his breath. "How many names?"

"Says here, twenty wizards and ten witches."

"Write down their names, will you? I have to make sure the males are XXY before I meet them. No point picking one and finding out later they can't give me an heir. I don't have time to go through a sticky divorce and remarry. Personally, I'd like this all done with, in one go."

Blaise nodded and copied down the wizards names onto separate parchment and then moved down to the French names littering the page, "You have thirty wizards and fifteen witches. A bit more than before."

"Cross off the males. I've dated a few French wizard and they are nothing but trouble. I won't have my name tarnished by my spouse's indiscretions."

Blaise laughed, "I'm sure they aren't all like that, Draco."

"I'm quite aware they all aren't," Draco conceded. "But I have to narrow down this ridiculous list somehow. This is a good of reason as any. Mark them off."

Chuckling to himself, Blaise marked out the names and moved down to the British, "Interesting."

"What? The hundreds of names listed there?" Draco guessed.

"Actually, at the scarcity. It seems that you and many of the eligible witches and wizards over here are too closely related for a marriage to take place."

"So the total number?"

"Wizards are about one hundred and fifty and witches number fifty."

"I wonder why so few witches?"

"Many are already married, either to half bloods or mudbloods."



Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust, "How revolting."

"Agreed."

Draco peered over Blaise's shoulder and quickly paled, "That's almost two hundred people! How will I ever get to each person! I will never make the six month deadline!"

Blaise ignored his friend's cries and reached under his desk for a small glass bottle with a wrinkled label encircling it. He placed it upon the desk top and slid across to the crazed blonde. Deftly, Draco caught the bottle and tried to read the ragged scrawl.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Calming Drought. I can't deal with you while you're acting like this. Take it or leave," Blaise demanded.

Shooting him a dirty look, Draco held his nose and threw the contents down the back of his throat, making a face as he swallowed. He tossed the bottle in the bin and plopped himself down in a leather chair across from Blaise.

"Better, now if you would use your brain and stop acting like an over active Hufflepuff you would see that many of these names are older wizards. I'm quite sure you don't want to marry some hundred year old hag, or do you?"

"Ugh! Of course not. Please, Zabini, what do you take me for?"

Blaise pulled his wand out from his robe pocket and waved it over the parchment, mumbling a few indecipherable words as well. The names began to rearrange themselves into two columns, one side obviously more fill than the other. Looking pleased with himself, Blaise smugly leaned back, "There you have it. No need for gratitude."

Draco sneered at Blaise's attitude and snatched the parchment off of his desk and poured over it, "That removes about hundred names."

"Don't forget you will eliminating more as you get their medical records back," Blaise reminded him.

Draco sniffed, "I know, Zabini."

He was tired of the condescending way Zabini was treating him. Him! The one who had used his contacts in order to make sure Zabini wasn't linked to any Death Eater activity during the Second War. All he asked in return for keeping him out of Azkaban was a little bit of help on his spouse search. Instead he received sneers and a Calming Drought.

"It's the least I could do," Zabini grinned.



"I know I could count on my true friends in my troubled times," Draco mocked, not sounding the least bit gracious. Nodding his head in Blaise's direction, he sauntered over to the floo and ignited the grate. He then tossed a handful of powder from the intricately designed floo pot upon the cherry mantle and disappeared into green flames.

WwWwwwWWWwwwwWWWWwwwWWW

Later that day, Ron Wesley and Harry Potter could be found crashed out on their sofa; one slumped over in a light doze and the other with his head propped up upon his arm, listening to the Quidditch scores. It had been a rather stressful day, dealing with pretty demanding bosses, and they knew later that evening they would dealing with an even more demanding witch. Utterly exhausted, they had immediately come home with the hope that they could grab an hour of silence and relaxation.

Unfortunately, their rest was interrupted by a loud voice calling from the grate, "Ron! Harry!"

Harry raised his head up in time to see his bushy haired friend appear into the living room he and Ron shared. He gave her a rather weary smile, " 'lo, 'mione."

She replied with a smile of her own and started to brush the soot from her traveling cloak. Satisfied she was clean enough; she pulled it off and flung it upon one of the squishy armchairs.

"Well, aren't you too exciting?" Hermione teased, subtly pointing over at an unconscious Ron. "I'm going to go ahead and get ready, yes? I think we should go out tonight."

"We are?"

"Yes, "she insisted, heading on back to the spare bedroom, bag in hand.

"I thought you wanted to be more economic and stop eating out as much," Harry called back, still splayed out across the sofa. He rubbed a hand through his already mussed hair, confused at Hermione's change.

Her head popped out around the door, "Yes, well… I still believe that, but once or twice isn't going to break anyone. I think we need some change don't we?"

Hastily, Harry nodded his head in agreement, not wanting to start a fight. He had seen way too many of Ron and Hermione's fights to learn when to agree and not to agree. Now was definitely one of those times. Unfortunately for Ron and Hermione's relationship, Ron had yet to catch on.



Harry reached over and sharply pinched Ron on the arm, hoping to waken him. Ron's snoring stopped for a few seconds, but returned with equal force. Harry decided to push him and call, "Ron."

Still the red head slumbered. Reaching the end of his patience, Harry grinned as he conjured up a bucket and dumped ice cold water upon his unsuspecting friend.

"Wah!" W-what was that?" Ron spluttered, looking around wildly for his attacker. His eyes landed upon the laughing brunet who still had his wand at the ready. "Harry!"

Wiping stray droplets from his sleeve, Harry gave him a sheepish smile, trying not to laugh at the sight before him, "Sorry, mate, but Hermione's here and she wants to go out. She'll want us ready to go when she is."

"Think its funny, do you?" Ron grabbed his wand from the coffee table and was about hex Harry back when Hermione's half dressed body appeared, hands on hips.

"Ronald Weasley! I thought you were old enough to stop all this childish cursing! And look you're dripping wet," Hermione huffed. "Why aren't you getting ready?"

"But, 'mione, I thought we were staying home tonight. I didn't think I would need to dress up," Ron tried to explain, wringing water from his shirt.

Hermione sighed and looked over at the equally ragged Harry. Both were still in their dirty work robes, one was soaking, and the nether really seemed to have the energy to go out. She had been so excited about her new research project and the deal she had worked out with Malfoy that she had completely forgotten what the guys had probably been through that day.

"How about a deal?" she compromised. "You two go out with me tonight to the club and tomorrow I'll order take out we'll eat in, and listen to Chudley Cannons, my treat?"

Ron gave her a large grin and hugged her, her feet lifting off the ground from such force. He plopped a kiss on her cheek and skipped off to his room to get ready. Hermione raised a hand to her cheek, a girlish grin upon her lips.

"Guess that's a yes," Harry supplied. He loved watching those two interact. His only surprise was that Ron hadn't popped the question yet. He knew it was only a matter of time and was really excited for them, but at the same time he felt lonely. He knew that his friends wouldn't ditch him when they got married, but their relationship would no longer be the same. Their family would become first, and Harry would be unintentionally left out.

"I'm assuming so, "she giggled. "I guess I better go finish getting dressed then. You better hurry too, Harry."



Following her advice, Harry headed off to his room to get dressed and possibly squeeze in a shower as well.

WWwwWWWWwwwwWWwWWW

An hour later found all three squeezed inside a dingy night club with what seemed like a hundred other people. They had found an empty booth under a florescent light and had claimed it as their own. From where they sat they could vaguely see the bar and doorway where a bouncer decided who was allowed in.

They had been dressed to nines when they had shown up outside the club; Hermione in a red slinky dress, Ron dressed in a blue button down shirt and black slacks, and Harry in his smoky grey top and slightly baggy black slacks. Usually they would have ambled over to the back of the line and waited their turn for admittance, possibly spotting an old friend or two; but tonight one of the bouncers had spotted Harry chatting with his friends and pulled him to the front and allowed the trio in. Surprised at their good fortune, the group had collected themselves in their booth before ordering drinks and risking their life out on the dance floor.

"Looks packed tonight, "Harry observed, his eyes scanning the room.

"It'll be a problem actually moving through here, "Ron grumbled a bit.

"I think it looks like fun, "Hermione snapped, elbowing her boyfriend.

Ron quickly plastered a smile on his face, "I was just thinking how it's too bad we won't be able to dance with all these people here."

Hermione cocked her brow and returned with an innocent look of her own, "Dancing? I'm sure we can still dance."

Before Ron could spit out a word of protest, Hermione had pulled Ron out onto the dance floor in an attempt to dance, leaving Harry alone in the booth. Snorting at the other two, Harry strolled over to the bar to get himself something potent to drink.

After squeezing through tight groups of people and couples grinding on the dance floor, Harry finally made it over to the bar and leaned himself up against the counter to order his drink. He had been slowly sipping from his glass when a rather scruffy and burly man sat himself down on one of the stools beside him.

"Martini. Dry," he barked. He leaned away from the counter and checked out the people on either side of him. Noticing the way Harry had been eyeing him, his harsh mouth broke into a lecherous grin. "Well, hello there."



Hesitantly, Harry returned the sentiment, "Hello. How are you?"

"Was feeling lousy, but right now everything's fine!" he guffawed. He turned towards Harry, eyeing him like a piece of meat while doing so. "Aren't you beauty?"

"Umm, thank you I guess," Harry stammered. He didn't like the way the other man was staring at him and was hoping he would lose interest soon.

"I'm sure you get compliments like that all the time. Just look at you! You could probably make a man cum without having to lift a finger," the other man cackled. The bar tender luckily showed up and saved Harry the embarrassment of having to respond to such a lewd comment. He subtly tried to find his friends in the crowd and leave, but before he could go anywhere he felt a hand on his arm. He looked down to see a large hand rubbing his arm in a suggestive manner.

"How about you and me get out of this madhouse and head on back to my place. I'm sure we could find something we could, ah, get 'up' to," the man's rough voice whispered in his ear.

Harry's cheeks burned at the implication as he tried to remove his arm from the other man's grasp, "N-no, thanks! Sorry, not really interested."

Instead of letting go, the man's hand tightened and yanked Harry closer to his sweaty body, "Awh, I'm sure you don't mean that."

Harry pushed against the man's chest, anger finally replacing embarrassment, "Actually, I do. Let go if you don't mind."

The other man pushed himself off the counter and stepped down from the barstool, allowing his towering height and weight intimidate, "No one ever says no to Jacky."

"I just did," Harry argued and turned to leave only to be jerked back against the man's body. Harry could feel something unpleasant digging into his lower back and tried to get away. He couldn't reach the wand in his pocket at the angle the man was holding his arms and no one seemed the least bit interested in what was going on over on their side of the bar.

"Excuse me, but I think you have something of mine," a cold voice addressed the man called Jacky.

"Huh?" the man grunted rotating around, coming face to face with a tall blonde man who was threateningly twirling his wand in his hands.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, shocked at the sudden appearance.

"I would appreciate it if you would remove your foul hands from what is mine," he repeated. "Or are you too dimwitted to understand a simply instruction?"



"I found him first," the burly man grunted.

"Yes, but he's with me. I don't appreciate you manhandling what's mine," Malfoy spat, his eyes as cold as granite. "I would suggest you let go."

The man, obviously not recognizing the type of wizard he was up against, only laughed at the threat, "What's a thing like you going to do?"

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry asked, gaping openly in shock. The name had somehow been a magic word because the bigger man's eyes widened in true terror. Harry was hastily thrown away from Jacky and into the bar counter.

"Malfoy! You didn't say you were a Malfoy!" the man called Jacky cried, earning him a few stares from the people around them. "I didn't realize. So sorry! Right. He's yours!"

Harry felt himself helped up, one hand around his waist and the other holding his hand as he stood up. He stared as Malfoy gave another innocent looking twirl of his wand and the larger man staggered off as quickly as he could without a backward glance.

"What was all that?" Harry finally asked.

Malfoy just shrugged. Harry stood there paralyzed until something smooth touched his fingers. Harry glanced over to see his drink sitting in his hand. He took a swallow and gazed at the blond beside him, sipping his own drink. Harry felt something brush his stomach and glance down to see that Malfoy's arm was still wrapped possessively around him, one hand slowly rubbing circles against his stomach. Instantly, his stomach began to flip flop a bit and goose bumps rose up on his arms.

"Excuse me, Malfoy, but could you let go? He's gone," Harry's voice hitched as he tried to remain unaffected.

Mercury eyes peered down into emerald green, "Why would I do that?"