Hello! This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter Dramione fic. I had been meaning to write something longer than a one-shot for so long and now with so much free time on my hands I took the plunge. Set in the Victorian Era this is heavily inspired by a book series called the Wallflowers by Lisa Kleypas. I hope you guys like it, feedback would be very much appreciated.

Hermione Granger drummed her white gloved fingers on the table in boredom, a yawn slipping quietly from her mouth. By now she was accustomed to the monotony of attending private events, so much so she had mastered the art of appearing gracefully bored. Her toes curled in her shoes as she shifted her feet uncomfortably. Mother had demanded she wear them tonight, saying they gave her much needed height. She had rolled her eyes, knowing that if she made a fit her mother would have relented but then she thought perhaps she was right. In their renewed vigor to find Hermione a befitting husband, anything would help. Which was why Hermione found herself once again at a soiree, primped and dolled up, at her parents insistence.

As much as she resented being displayed and paraded around, she felt reluctant to disobey her parents in the matter. All her life, Hermione's every whim and desire had been fulfilled to the extent a moderately well-off lifestyle offered. She adored her parents despite their admittedly acute flaws as they had never attempted to limit or cage her.

Thomas Granger was a severe and stoic average sized man, with a full set of brown hair and a relatively new handlebar mustache (perhaps grown to fit in better with his colleagues). The son of a factory worker, Thomas elected to venture into the world of business much to his father's chagrin. It was much later in life that Thomas was able to create a sizable business that overturned profits, and then like money often did, it went where it was most. By that time he had already had a family, his wife Jean Granger and his daughter Hermione. Jean was a beautiful woman with silky straight brown hair and a small sun kissed face. She had a wealthy father who had no doubt offered a large sum of dowry for his daughter. The money had fueled Thomas's investments and although it may have looked like a calculated mutually beneficial arrangement, their marriage was not one of convenience.

Hermione knew her parents loved each other, though they did not often display their affections. Her mother was rich and kind but somewhat vapid, very much taken by the scene of upper-class London, and the aristocracy touch of it. If she had wanted she could have married into peerage, a duke, or an earl because although she didn't come from nobility, her family was respectable. But she had married Thomas Granger instead, a man who would most likely be looked down upon by those she so admired.

The fact of the matter was that although they were now wealthy, Hermione's family was considered nouveau riche. They were the opposite of the aristocrats who squandered old money that came from generations ago. In their society it was distasteful to not only discuss business matters but to make a career of it was practically vulgar. Her father had many alliances with like-minded industrialists who didn't give a damn about his family lineage but that could not be said about London's upper tier of aristocrats. Quite frankly Hermione thought it was extremely idiotic for men who had not lifted a finger their entire lives to look down on those who had worked hard for a place in high society but so it was. There were not many peers who did not look at Thomas Granger with anything but hostility, but his wealth and success couldn't be denied. They were still invited to outings and balls and soirees though mingling was difficult. Hermione suspected it was her mother who had convinced her father that the only way for their family to gain respect among London's upper class was to marry into an English title, the responsibility which fell on Hermione.

Hermione was intelligent enough to understand that marrying a peer would greatly elevate both her father's businesses and her family's standing, so she did not fight them. Her mother and father had given her every freedom, educated, and enriched her; it was only fair she repay them. And it wasn't as if their request was something outrageous. Women grew up instilled with the concept of finding a suitable husband, some fortunate ones found love, most others were left with marriages of convenience and even desperation. Hermione knew with certainty that if she had to marry a peer she would be the latter kind which she did not mind. It was the act of getting there that was grating on her nerves.

After two years of 'husband hunting' she was rather used to watching others court and dance as she sat on the side of the room pretending not to care. That's not to say she had not had her share of partners. But they had been industrialists and entrepreneurs like her father, the stray aristocrats that had approached her were leery and perverse and she had made quick work of them though looking back she knew that had not helped her reputation.

Pansy Parkinson had once told her she often resembled a doe baring its teeth to which Hermione took minor offence to but could partially understand. She was headstrong and opinionated, not reserved and demure like the wives of peers she had observed. She supposed they could also be headstrong and opinionated; she was simply louder. Nevertheless Hermione could not control herself especially when it came to conversing with pompous, stuffy English gentlemen who required a mother more than a wife no matter how much she wished she could fulfill her parents' wishes.

"Tired already Hermione? We haven't even reached half the evening." Hermione's eyes flitted to a pair of dark, amused ones that belonged to the aforementioned Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione supposed if there was a silver lining in her situation it would come in the form of Pansy. She had developed an unusual friendship with the woman, after the countless balls and soirees they spent together on the sidelines. Hermione had been apprehensive at first. When she had first laid eyes on her she thought she was intimidatingly pretty. A severe kind of pretty, with dark up-tilted eyes, unusually slick black hair, and tinted lips which were always held in a frown. She was the only daughter of Lord Parkinson, a noble Baron from Wales. Hermione was curious why the heir of a Baron was always seated to the side, her dance card nearly empty. Her mother, always well-informed of gossip told her of a scandal Pansy had been involved in last summer with the son of a Viscount, Cormac McLaggen. Usually if a proper noble gentleman were caught in such a way with a lady it would be his duty to uphold her honor and marry her. However by the time the news broke out, McLaggen had already married the daughter of an American businessman. Pansy's father could have fought to have the marriage annulled, but he was a Baron and McLaggen was the son of a Viscount with a new very wealthy ally.

Hermione thought the story was rather sad and on Pansy's behalf she was infuriated. But knowing Pansy she would die than be pitied so they hadn't discussed it. Pansy held her head high at events even as those she once called friends whispered behind her back. Hermione found Pansy was intelligent and had a dry sense of humor she enjoyed. She was beautiful, knew the proper etiquette and how to behave like a noble lady, there was no doubt if rumors of the scandal did not exist, Pansy would be married to a rich peer by then and happily well-off.

Hermione eyes narrowed and she sat up straight, wondering if she really did look that defeated. "Not in the least of course. And yourself? How are you faring? I did not catch a glimpse of you all evening." Hermione was shocked to see Pansy grow a slight smile. "What?" She asked. There was silence. She felt the tendrils of excitement. "You sly wench, what?"

"Quiet!" Pansy hushed though now she was smiling uncontrollably. "If you must know, I took a walk in the garden with a very kind gentleman whose name I will not disclose for the time being."

"Why not?"

Pansy shrugged and wiped the smile off her lips into a composed demeanor, "I don't want to get either of us too excited. It wouldn't do to get one's hopes up."

Hermione eyed her. Pansy was always very well guarded. Kept and composed like a proper noble, she did not let her emotions show. Up till now, Pansy had rarely discussed her own situation far be it she admit she was searching for a match. Hermione was glad to see her in good spirits. "Right, well you do that, I for one hope that after you and this mysterious nobleman wed, you don't forget all about me."

"Impossible." Pansy deadpanned. "What with the sound of your voice that would carry over every ball and gathering. Besides, I firmly believe you are not far off from your own match."

Pansy watched as Hermione shook her head and scoffed, "I sincerely doubt that. It seems soon my only hope would be to somehow find a sponsor or take up Lord Amycus Carrow on his offer." Her nose crinkled. "I don't suppose your mother would mind?"

Pansy frowned. They both knew the answer to that question. Ada Parkinson was a strict and conservative woman, who hadn't even spoken more than a few sentences to her daughter in light of the events of last year. Far be it she agree to be a sponsor and teach her daughter's new-blooded friend the ways of nobility and high society.

But that was beside the point, observing Hermione, Pansy was morose. Hermione was shorter in height than Pansy, and rather than Pansy's classic long-limbed, lean figure, Hermione's figure was slim and curved. Whereas Pansy's features were aristocratic, with sharp lines, up-tilted almost catlike eyes, Hermione's brown eyes were doe-like, her nose upturned and dotted with freckles and her lips were rather unfashionably full. Her tan golden skin and long curly hair completed the look of a very beautiful woman. As they were acquainted Pansy was even further delighted when she found Hermione was well-educated and cultured. She was kind and a loyal friend, something quite new to Pansy. And so she felt sympathy for the girl. Hermione's strong-will, and argumentative streak could not be overlooked by just any noble even in the face of her intelligence and beauty. That and Hermione's disregard for etiquette and societal conventions were a problem especially if she wished to find a half-decent peer.

And that wasn't the only thing. Pansy had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione remained on the side of every event because in many nobles minds she was an outsider, someone who didn't belong because rather than being born into high society, her father had worked for it. Pansy was amazed at the sheer stubbornness that peers held onto their pompous traditional views. She supposed in a way it was a defense tactic, the peerage was threatened by the industrial enterprise forming and rather than adapting they were hightailing away. Furthermore she was amazed that she perhaps she would have not long ago been one of those people. Silently she thanked Cormac McLaggen, the bastard.

There were exceptions in the peerage, however. Pansy knew of noblemen who were tentatively embracing the new age of entrepreneurs and businessmen. Though many had been picked off by affluent American heiresses and daughters of financiers there were still some left. In fact, she knew of one whom she was quite close to. Eyeing Hermione this time more speculatively, she thought. I wonder…

Hermione did not like the look in Pansy's eyes, as she looked much like Hermione's mother did before offering an outlandish often suggestive piece of advice involving men before an event.

"Hermione," Pansy asked, "What kind of husband are you looking for, dear?"

Hermione was surprised by the turn in conversation. "I suppose any decent peer will do."

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Even I'm not that practical. Surely you have preferences."

"I don't believe I can afford preferences."

"Then hypothetically say you could have the ideal husband, what would he be like?"

Hermione looked troubled, brow furrowing. Growing up Hermione had passing fancies, but she had never considered any of them for marriage. By the time she was of age, they had begun the practical search for a pure-bred husband, and she hadn't allowed herself to think in hypotheticals.

"I suppose…" Hermione began slowly. "Someone with intellect would do. A good debater." Alas so far all of the peers she encountered would rather stake themselves on a sword than argue with a lady or admit they were wrong.

"Naturally." Pansy nodded, "Don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking in those pocket-sized books. What about looks?"

Hermione blinked owlishly, "Yes, nice looks would be agreeable."

Pansy smirked. "I meant what kind of looks. Dark haired, fair haired, tall, short." Clicking her tongue she waved her hand. "Perhaps we should take a different approach."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Approach? Pansy what is with the barrage of questions? What are you planning?"

"I simply want to help. Frankly, I'm sick and tired of us sitting on the sidelines. Your parents want you to marry into peerage, correct? Perhaps we should make a list of eligible gentlemen of nobility and narrow them by your preferences."

Hermione was apprehensive. Even after the list was narrowed and they found the candidates, how would she get them to ask for her hand? Still, nothing else had worked so far, and the fact that Pansy was suggesting it, sent a jolt of hope and determination through her. "Shall we start with the Barons and work our way to the top?"

Pansy smiled pleased she had agreed but then grimaced, "Perhaps skip to the Viscounts. There aren't many Barons you'd find preferable, unless you fancy old gentlemen."

Hermione was not that desperate. "Viscounts then. What of the young Lord Goyle?"

Pansy considered it and then shook her head. Gregory Goyle was a spoiled, portly fellow who heeded his parents words to a fault. "His family is much too conservative. You could surely win his affections, but he would never go against his parents' wishes." Pansy suddenly eyed her, thinking of the Earl of Godric's Hollow. "I've meant to ask, what of Lord Potter. Forgive my impropriety but you seem…close. Would that match not be agreeable to you?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. Harry Potter was an old friend of hers since childhood, she saw him nothing more than a brother. A true subversive, his father of pure bloodline had many allies in the industrial world much to his peers chagrin. Their fathers being business partners meant she saw Harry often, but she had never considered him in that light, and she would never ask him to reprieve her of her problem. Besides, Hermione was quite sure he was in the midst of negotiating an arrangement with Ginny Weasley's father, intending to court her.

"Harry and I have a familial bond though we don't share blood. I could only ever see him as brother and a close confidant." She shook her head. "I suppose if we're skipping to Earls what about Lord Boot? I've only ever seen him once, but he seemed kind if not a bit dull."

"A bit too dull." Pansy mused, "He doesn't come out much does he?"

"I wouldn't either if this was my only company." Hermione muttered, throwing a glance around them.

"Then we'll keep him on the list." Pansy said, and then after a short pause a number of emotions graced her face. As if dreading Hermione's answer, she lightly asked, "Lord Longbottom?"

Hermione held in a smile wondering how someone so used to keeping their emotions in check could be so obvious. Could he have been the mysterious man Pansy had taken a walk with? Neville Longbottom was an Earl who came into his inheritance tragically soon. He was good friends with Harry Potter, and so he and Hermione were acquainted though not close. From what she could tell he was very honorable and kind, though she couldn't imagine marrying him especially if Pansy favored him. She wrinkled her nose, "I suppose I would put him in the same category as Lord Potter." She then grinned, "I have a rather devilish one; Blaise Zabini."

"The Italian noble?" Pansy laughed, "I'm quite sure he's compromised more than half the ladies in England, and he doesn't show signs of stopping. The day he decides to marry will be a cold day in hell." Hermione giggled loudly at this, drawing the glances of a few around them including Pansy's old friend and Duke of Wiltshire; Draco Malfoy, who frowned at the girl, though Hermione remained oblivious. Pansy turned to her questioningly, raising one perfectly plucked brow. "What about Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione instantly grimaced to Pansy's curiosity. "That's a bit far-fetched don't you think?"

"Hermione!" Pansy admonished with jest. "That's the closest I've seen of you to admitting weakness, how so?"

She straightened and indignantly said. "I'm not admitting defeat. It's logical! His family is the oldest nobility in England. And he is a Duke. I'd imagine he'd fall into the same category as Lord Goyle."

Pansy looked at her confused. "His father passed years ago, and his mother rarely makes appearances. Besides, isn't he venturing into business with your father? I'd imagine that would reflect on his views on the class issue."

Hermione waved her off. "Business and marriage are two wholly different entities."

Hermione had heard much about the Duke of Wiltshire and though she had never personally met him, she knew they both knew of each other. Lord Malfoy was known for his immaculate appearance, and serious-minded personality. High-principled and pragmatic, it seemed he mostly focused on his estate and his businesses. She heard many complain about his aloofness and indifference to the comings and goings of London's high society, and naturally he had never been involved in scandal or gossip. When he did come out to the city it was usually to do business, delve into political matters or to make obligatory appearances at parties such as this.

She had first seen him, at a ball held by Lord Zacharias Smith and his wife. She thought he looked arrogant and pretentious. And also rather handsome. He was tall and lean, and his looks were classical, possessing an aristocratic long nose, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and dark stormy eyes. But what she had been most delighted by was the almost snow-white quality of his hair which she had never seen before. He was a handsome man indeed, with deep pockets and one of the oldest dukedoms in the country, it was curious why he hadn't married as she knew if he tried he could have his pick. Hermione also thought it was curious a man with such high degree of nobility had such liberal minded views when it came to the industrial enterprise. Pansy was right, Hermione had heard of him doing dealings with Harry Potter and knew that her father had met with him a few times to discuss the trade.

The closest they got to speaking had been when her family and she were first introduced to the Duke. She had received a firsthand glimpse of his callousness and indifference when his eyes had skimmed over her, his only reaction being the slight clench of his jaw and a bob of his throat, and then he had turned to converse with her parents. She was shocked. Even with Hermione's limited knowledge on high society customs she knew that had been a clear snub and completely intentional. That dismissal had incensed her more than the entirety of her two years of husband hunting though she would never audibly admit it.

"Besides," Hermione added. "My preference isn't cold, stuffy snobs."

Pansy sighed. "Well, I suppose we cross him off then." For the rest of the evening, the two carried on discussing their list and anything else that came to mind. By the end they had narrowed it down to a few promising candidates, feeling thoroughly accomplished. "Your family will be attending Lord Malfoy's spring party in Wiltshire?" Pansy presumed.

The Season was coming to a finish, which meant soon the balls and soirees would end until next year. Lord Malfoy was hosting the end of season party at his manor in a couple days where many peers and businessmen would be attending with their families, including Hermione's. "Of course, and I heard Ginny and Luna will be attending as well." Her lips twisted into an excited smile.

"Ah, so there won't be a moment of dullness." Pansy drawled, feeling similarly excited on the inside. She was not a superstitious person, but she had a curious feeling that in the upcoming days their luck would swiftly be changing.