Rachel and Draco had been given time alone in one of the Malfoy's smaller parlors, a phrase here meaning they were falsely led there and locked in for several hours. A fire roared in the smooth granite fireplace, shedding gold light over the entire room, making Draco's gray eyes shine silver and the gold in Rachel's stand out brighter. They sat, each in their own armchair, staring at each other darkly. Looking at the two, they were very opposite in appearance. Rachel with her long, dark hair and brown-gold eyes, full red lips and pallid complexion; Draco with his silver-blond hair that reached halfway down his neck and his light grey eyes of steel.

"Are you not going to say anything?" He asked with defeat, breaking the cold, grey silence.

"I agreed to marry you, isn't that enough?" She said in an airy voice. "Well, if you can't even bring yourself to talk to me, how do you expect us to..." He was cut off by a warning look from Rachel. "Do...?" She waved her hand, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "Married couples stuff." He said diplomatically.

"Draco," She began, more than a little exasperated. "How did they convince you to go along with this?" Her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Well," He sighed with admission. "They didn't have to convince me so much after the shock wore off and I thought about it. I mean, look," He got up and walked over by the fire. "You and I used to be good friends, you're a person that I generally get along with (And that's rare), and you're smart..." He trailed off, avoiding her eyes. "You're beautiful..." He said the last part softly, but she heard him. "I just don't think it would be the most horrible thing that could be forced on me." He shrugged. "Why are you so dead set against it?" Rachel sunk a bit in her chair. She felt rather cruel and guilty listening to his speech.

"I just don't think I'm ready for marriage, that's all..." She admitted. "I never thought I'd be eighteen when I married. I always saw myself as having a career first or something. Now," She sighed. "I'm afraid I'll never get to have a life of my own... I'll just be some trophy house-wife who stays home with the kids all day and knits!" She was standing up now with her arms crossed under her chest and her head bowed.

"No wife of mine will ever NEED to work!" He snapped. "I mean, we're pretty well off and what kind of husband would I be if I couldn't provide for you?"

"I wasn't attacking your masculine potential! Although, if you're going to be such an ass, I should!" She threw up her hands in anger. "I WANT to work!"

"You WANT to work?" His mouth made a small O of surprise. "Yes." She frowned at him.

"Oh. Well," He looked at her beautifully sad face and melted somewhere inside his chest. "If you really want to work, I'll let you work." He sighed.

"You'll LET me work?" She raised her brow in annoyance and half growled at the implied ownership he had claimed over her.

"That's NOT what I meant!" He rolled his eyes. "Go ahead and work, as long as it makes you happy, I suppose it shouldn't bother me." He just shrugged.

"Why are you being so NICE about this?" She wanted to cry throughout their entire conversation, but pride stopped her. He could tell she was still really upset though by her voice and her demeanor. "Look, Rachel," He moved towards her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm just trying to make the best of this. I understand if you don't love me, if you NEVER love me. I'm used to it." He sighed. Rachel's heart wrenched.

"Uh... thanks." She looked up into his eyes and read the sincerity that lived there. "Really, thanks for understanding." Rachel leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.