A/N: Hello! Expect another update in the next day or two since this is a shorter chapter! Enjoy!

October 31st, 1999 - Sunday

Taffy alights on his perch beside Draco's desk. His library is cozy, the fire blazing to combat the window that has been left open for his owl.

"Hi Taf," Draco greets the owl, running his fingers gently down the closest wing. Taffy preens under the attention, ducking his feathered head to press into Draco's hand. It's easy for Draco to lets the owl do so, content to wash him in affection.

The letter affixed to Taffy's leg can wait a few moments longer.

He's nervous — despite having no real reason to be. He had been the first to write since Granger had abruptly shown up at Malfoy Manor in pyjamas two days prior. He had felt somehow he owed her that. She had dragged herself, obviously unwillingly, to his house, to apologize. The way she had looked; half panicked and crazed, as though Bellatrix could be hiding in any shadow.

So he had sent a note upon waking — not even a letter. A simple question about grabbing coffee at a later date was hardly worthy of the name.

Finally, Taffy has had enough of his attention and shoves his talons out, allowing Draco to take her response. His owl promptly curls his head away, ignoring his master.

Draco unrolls the parchment, watching as Granger's messy scrawl hits his eyes. It had been a surprise the first time to realize that she was messy. It was as though her hand couldn't keep up with her thoughts; each letter Draco opened covered in smudges and crossed-out phrases, so at odds with his perfect penmanship. It's almost endearing.

'To Malfoy,

I'd like that. I also would like to ask if I could borrow any books you may have on pureblood marriage contracts. The older the better. Would that be alright?

I met Theo Nott yesterday. Luna brought him out to meet up with Ron, Harry and I. We were surprised to see him, but it went well. He does seem to like her — you were right. They really… they really seem like the WPG isn't a problem for them. As though they'd marry each other either way. It was… odd, but nice, I guess.

As well. I would like to invite you to Harry's wedding. It's on November 6th. I was hoping you would attend with me. Let me know if that works for you.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger'

Draco reads the letter twice and then nearly laughs. He wonders what he might have said if he knew one day he would not only be attending Harry Potter's wedding, but he'd be attending as Hermione Granger's date.

He summons two different rolls of parchment and immediately begins writing a sarcastic missive to Theo, asking about how his night with the Gryffindors and his future bride had gone. Though he knows he's being a bit of a prat, Theo knows him better than anyone, and he'll understand.

"Juney," Draco says.

His house-elf appears instantly, blue eyes staring. She's the only house-elf he's ever seen with such vivid blue eyes. House-elves aren't very common outside the walls of Hogwarts, so Draco hasn't seen many. Growing up, the Malfoy's had always had three elves, which was more than most households could claim. One from the Malfoy line to serve Lucius; Dobby, set free by Potter in their second year. Then two from the Black line — one who had disappeared suspiciously under Bellatrix's reign.

Juney, however, had been a Black family elf for years, sheltered from Bellatrix by serving his mother. Narcissa had been fond of the little elf and had demanded no one else call upon her. Juney had doted on his mother until the day she died, and now the elf continued to serve him as the last living Black.

"Master Malfoy," Juney greets, bowing low. Her huge ears are held back by a bright pink knitted bow.

"Could you take this to the Nott household?" Draco extends the letter he's written for Theo. "You may visit with Thelma for a while if you wish."

Juney takes the letter and smiles tremulously. "Thank you, Master. Juney misses Thelma. Juney won't stay long."

Draco waves her off, and she disappears.

'You didn't thank her.'

Draco presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to force Granger's words from two nights prior out of his brain. Juney knows he finds her helpful; she has served his family for years and is glad to serve him now after his mother has passed. There is no need for thanks.

He shakes his head as if to slough the thoughts away, grabbing his wand to accio a few tomes he knows are on his shelf. It's hardly a comprehensive pureblood study, but Granger can start with the three he has handy.

He puts a weightless charm on them and slides them into a bag. Picking up a quill, he heaves a sigh.

'Dear Hermione, '

He scratches it instantly, a muttered incendio reducing the parchment to ashes.

One more time.

'Dear Granger —

I have included a few books that may be helpful. I have more, so let me know what you may need. As for Theo, well, I think you may be right. When you finally tear this whole WPG thing apart, they may just stick together. It's bloody mental, but I suppose there are worse things.

Although I never thought I would see the day I would attend Potty and Weasel's wedding, I would be happy to be your date.

Speaking of dates. Do you want to set one?

Regards,

D.M'

He hates the dear with every fibre of his being, but he knows that his mother would have been horrified if he continued to address letters to his future wife with 'to'.

He supposes there are worse things — Granger, despite being a know-it-all and a bit of a nightmare growing up, isn't entirely horrible, as it turns out. One 'dear' is hardly going to kill him.

Taffy, however, looks positively murderous at the idea of another flight. Still, his faithful owl allows him to tie the letter, and the lightened bag to her talons and takes off with only a single resentful hoot.

Draco spends the next hour summoning books from his shelves, reading up on pureblood marriage laws and wondering exactly what Granger is looking for. What loophole does she think she'll be able to find?

Draco is about to retire to his room where he knows he'll chase sleep. It's rare that he gets enough rest — the Manor, once his beloved childhood home, is empty and gargantuan. His mother's presence had filled up so many of the rooms; after the war, it had appeared she was the only spot of warmth left in the entire estate.

Without her, Draco is a caretaker in a graveyard of memories.

He hears a gentle hoot as his owl alights on his perch, annoyance easy to spot in his brilliant orange eyes. The letter on Taffy's leg comes away easily, and the owl is smart enough to fly away instantly, seeking a roost far away from demanding masters and return letters.

'To Malfoy,

Thank you for the books — I truly appreciate it.

Yes — let's set a date. Can we discuss it tomorrow at coffee? Java Corner again — 5PM?

Thank you for agreeing to come to the wedding. You should know I promised to hex you if you are a prat; so please, try to restrain yourself on that day.

Yours,

Granger'

Draco realizes he's tracing the letters: y - o - u - r - s.

He can't imagine Hermione Granger being owned by anyone or anything — the WPG, abhorrent for so many reasons, is suddenly something he hates fucking fiercely.

He summons another book, forgetting entirely about sleep.