Hermione Granger sat in the black library, reading through the third in a seeming endless pile of contractual obligations textbooks. They were all about marriages, or in this case, betrothals. How could her parents do this to her? Granger thought, feeling unaccountably betrayed. Moments later, Granger had her head on a book, and she was actually crying, her voice whispering, "how could mum do this to me? I thought she cared..."
Severus Snape, who, as was his wont, had been watching his Gryffindor pupil since she came in with Tonks, suddenly spoke up. "You are ever a difficult, most stubborn, and headstrong child, Miss Granger. I find it most unlikely that you've changed, in that. I find it even more unlikely that your Muggle parents could possibly consent to a bethrothal as performed by the Ministry of Magic. That would violate several dozen laws, some of which are punishable by death for all parties involved."
"If... if they didn't...?" Hermione asked, her tearfilled, reddened eyes collecting themselves. "What happened?"
"I can only presume, Miss Granger, that you betrothed yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"While ordinarily, I'd simply suggest you consult the library, it appears that the Blacks were quite known for disdaining the oldest traditions. Read this, it may explain. When you're done, return it to me." Severus Snape handed her a thin blue book, that said simply Magical Betrothals on the leather cover. Hermione Granger stormed up to her room, a hank of bread and a wedge of cheese in her grubby other hand. Her eyes burned with determination - Severus Snape wryly shook his head, So much enthusiasm for such a small book!
Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, was pouring over entirely too many books in his parents library. There wasn't a single thing written on self-betrothals, as he had taken to calling them. He was certain, dead certain, his mother was laughing at him. That was nothing new. Perhaps his father would swing by, simply to rub salt in the wound? (Bit hard to get out of Azkhaban just for that, mind. Draco knew his father would manage it, somehow). His mother was just waiting for him to ask her, he knew it. She got bored fairly easily, after all, and power games were one way to wile away the time spent inside Malfoy Manner. It was no longer so appropriate for her to attend charity events, at any rate. People talked, and if there was one thing the proud Narcissa hated, it was people gossiping about her. Draco found himself wondering if that know-it-all had found a way to organize a library, to find the right books. Better not to ask, he didn't want to grow radishes in his hair.
[a/n: yes, i'm a tease! Now be good readers and write a review! This part'll be over soon, I promise.]