Chapter 7

That Night

Hermione stared blearily down at the page. It was hopeless, hopeless. She'd even gone to the ministry's library and gotten the official statement from the ministry, the prophet's article, everything she could find.

And it was worse than she thought. The pamphlet spoke optimistically about 'ample time to secure and confirm the matches.'

The actual law put a date on it. In six months, she would have to register an engagement at least. One year from the first of October, she would have to be married. It also put its money where it's mouth was. If the year was up, and an eligible witch or wizard (above eighteen, unmarried, and not imprisoned) refused to submit to the law, the ministry would revoke their magic.

The good news was that so far, she didn't think she had to marry Malfoy. The Maritare charm was really more of an encouragement, assurance for all the desperate cases like Hermione that the ministry was doing all it could do make this as easy as possible.

And what made her a desperate case? Well for one, instead of being out at a glamorous dinner with a charming date, she was hunched over a stack of crumpled parchment with an impossible problem. Old habits die hard.

The only thing that had changed since the old days? Wine. She never drank enough to go beyond a slight tipsiness, but tonight she was sorely tempted. Anyway, who would notice or care? She was alone anyway.

A rapping at the window sobered her thoughts. A fine looking, but unfamiliar owl rested on her kitchen window sill. Instantly, her breath hitched. She shook her head to clear away the voice in the back of her head that whispered that it could be a trap. She was safe. The war was over.

She stood slowly, and stood in front of her sink looking at the owl. It cocked it's head to the side and looked up at her with wide brown eyes. A missive was tied to it's leg with a wide green ribbon. Malfoy. She rolled her eyes, but opened the window cautiously.

The owl calmly offered it's burden, looking up at her in askance. She handled Malfoy's note like it was covered in basilisk venom. As soon as she had it free of the ribbon, the owl took off.

"Wait-" She called out the window hopelessly, " How am I supposed to reply?"

The parchment was longer than she expected, and certainly much longer than was required for the note:

Granger,

Expect you will be up late looking for a way out. Two heads are better than one, don't you think? Await your reply.

Your ever devoted soulmate,

Malfoy

She rolled her eyes back so far in her head, it actually hurt. First of all, her address was meant to be a secret, she felt safer in muggle London. Second, how was she meant to send a reply back to him?

Third, this whole thing was too suspicious. Malfoy offering to pool their resources? She'd sooner trust Bellatrix Lestrange to catsit.

And to top it all off his closing made her want to strangle him with her bare hands. Who did he think he was? She almost threw the page into the trash, but she gave it one last glance. Underneath the original missive, a postscript began to reveal itself.

PS. Don't want to bother with the long back and forth of post. Write back to me on this page.

Hermione's interest was piqued. Was it a two way reflecting charm? They'd used those during the war, to make plans long distance. It was a sophisticated bit of spellwork, more complicated as the distance grew.

She sat down at her kitchen table and inspected first the front and then the back of the paper. Whatever he did, it was completely undetectable.

Confidently, Hermione raised her quill. She wrote his name in greeting… and then froze. She wasn't sure if she really trusted him to work with, but by the same token she was surprised he'd even offered. Ron and Ginny had comforted her, but they would never dig through a law with her and talk out the different options. They wanted her to come up with something concrete first- which she planned to. Harry was the same, although slightly more proactive. When she'd floo-ed him, he was already contacting people to stage a peaceful protest. ' I'm depending on you, 'Mione! Go through those laws with a fine toothed comb!' He'd said in lieu of a goodbye.

And she would. She knew she could.

You there?

The writing appeared under her aborted "Malfoy-" and she almost jumped out of her seat. She almost considered not writing back, just throwing the paper out and pretending it hadn't happened. But her pride dragged her quill across the page.

Sorry, I wasn't sure of my reply.

She waited, biting her lip.

What's to be sure of? I was going to ask if you wanted to talk it through at the ministry library in the afternoon tomorrow, not if you wanted to come over for a good comforting shag.

She considered his words, stedfastly ignoring the second half. An afternoon at the library seemed fairly aboveboard.

Unless you're offering, He wrote swiftly, You'd have to be on top though, I've had a pretty trying day.

She almost stabbed through the paper, she was pressing her quill so hard to the page.

Malfoy, I don't appreciate your improper advances.

You were inches from me today in the elevator, Granger, but you didn't even draw your wand. So that leaves me to wonder: It may be improper, but is it unwelcome?

She took in a quick breath through gritted teeth. He really knew how to get her temper up. She put her quill down to tell him to sod off, but he wrote again:

I just like provoking you, but

He hesitated.

but you shouldn't let your temper get the best of you. Tsk, Tsk.

She narrowed her eyes at the paper, as if it were Malfoy himself. Well two could play at that game. He wouldn't know what hit him.

My temper is nothing to your rudeness. Careful, Malfoy, or I might have to discipline you.

How shocking. I'm clutching my pearls at your daring.

It's comments like that that will have you on your back, Malfoy. Under me. Screaming my name. Coming again and again.

Was it possible to blush so hard a person actually burst into flames? Hermione made a note to herself to look it up later.

Don't make promises you can't keep, Granger. I take it that you'll meet me after work tomorrow then? Or are you too afraid of the scary defeated death eater?

Hermione's quill hovered over the paper. It was probably just a waste of time. Or an excuse to humiliate her. But now he'd made it a dare. And no one could say that Hermione Granger would walk away from a dare.

I'll be there at three, straightaway after work.

Excellent, He wrote back.