It was approaching mid-day when Hermione finally managed to roll out of bed. The sun was already high in the sky and the entire upstairs floor was becoming increasingly warm from the August heat seeping in. For the first time in a while, she woke up feeling uncharacteristically refreshed.

"Hermione," Tonks whispered to her the night before, "take this." She slid a small vial filled with thick purple liquid into her cupped hand. "Pour the lot into some chamomile tea before bed tonight. We need to get rid of those circles under your eyes, love." Hermione touched her face and suddenly felt self-conscious. She must've looked tired. Hell, she WAS tired. She took the vial of potion with a half-hearted smile and tucked it into her back pocket. "I'll be back through around noon tomorrow."

"To make me pretty?" Hermione asked meekly. Tonks put her hands on the sides of Hermione's face.

"To make you even prettier." Tonks gave Hermione a quick kiss on her forehead before walking out of the Burrow into the night with her family, Teddy draped over Remus's shoulder as he dozed and drooled.

As she stirred, she could hear the sweet babbling of a toddler and Tonks giggling with Ginny down in the kitchen. She took her time making her way downstairs, shuffling to and from the bathroom, changing in and out of pajama sets for no reason other than to waste time. Although she adored Tonks and cherished her time with her, she was not eager to begin this tedious process of prettifying and preening. And for what? To attract the highest bidder at the meat market? To hopefully make the least unsavory pure-blood decide that she was worth the 'risk' because she looks good? Hermione scoffed under her breath as she glanced in the mirror. It was certainly no secret that she was decent-looking, but she was so much more than her coffee eyes and porcelain skin! She was sharp and deadly, bright and brave. But then again, those were the reasons her dowry was so high. Her looks would soften the blow for the poor bloke who had to attempt to tame her.

Once she finally descended from her bedroom, Tonks and Ginny were eagerly waiting as they stood beside a vanity and chair that had appeared out of thin air in the middle of the kitchen. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at the scene.

"I know that I shouldn't be excited," Ginny said, trying not to sound as enthusiastic as she clearly was, "but I just love makeovers!" Hermione gave her a glare that didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Tonks grabbed a large sequined bag off the table and began to rummage through it.

"I grabbed your dress from Gladrags on my way in today!" She said with a smirk as she pulled out a bubble-gum pink mountain of tulle and frills, beaded to the high heavens with intricate swirls and glittery eyelets. Hermione's eyes became as big as dinner plates.

"Tonks, no. Please, Merlin, please tell me you are joking," Hermione pleaded as Tonks held the dress up to her petite frame.

"Oh no, you don't like it? I spent a fortune on this dress!" She then burst into laughter as she tossed the dress into the fireplace, and Hermione let out a sigh. "I'd never do that to you, Hermione! That was a reject from my mother's closet. It'll be a favor to her once that atrocity gets set to flames. THIS-" she said as she reached into the bag once more, "is your dress." She pulled out an olive, silk, off-the-shoulder sheath dress, with a scoop neck and a ribbed bodice. Much more suited for Hermione.

"That was very cruel, but this is very pretty!" Hermione said as she let the silk flow through her hands like cascading water. She then sat in the chair in front of the vanity and begrudgingly allowed Tonks and Ginny to remake her.

Hermione was ushered into the Ministry by Mr. Weasley and Remus, her silver kitten heels clicking on the checkered tile floor and echoing off the columned walls as she walked. She managed to keep her footing as she emanated poise and confidence from her shaken core. She saw about fifty others wearing and looking their best, fretting with their hair and adjusting their dresses and robes. She imagined these were all the hopeful muggle-borns, nervously awaiting their fates. As she made her way to the registration kiosk, she met eyes with Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff in her year at Hogwarts. He strode over to her and her chaperones with his shoulders rounded, trying his best not to look defeated, but was otherwise unsuccessful.

"Hello, Justin," Hermione said, feigning cheerfulness. "You sure do look rather smart today." Justin was wearing maroon dress robes with swirling gold accents and a black tuxedo shirt. His hair was slicked to one side very carefully, although Hermione noticed a tiny callick starting to erupt from the back of his head.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said as he eyed her up and down, her olive dress draping over her delicate frame in such a lovely fashion that others in the hall were beginning to take more than one glance in her direction. Tonks let her keep her curls, though she tamed them and twisted them into a loose rope, allowing small ringlets to fall and framing her face. "You look positively stunning. No doubt this day will go swimmingly for you." Hermione let out an exasperated sigh.

"One can only hope. I'm sure you will have luck as well. Lots of decent pure-blood bachelorettes milling around."

"Oh, indeed. Hopefully I can spark the interest, if not strike pity at least, of Fawna Fawley or Isobel MacDougal. They were both good friends of mine at Hogwarts." Hermione smiled at the potential for a happy ending in this horrendous affair. Those two women were very bright and friendly, no doubt exquisite matches for someone like Justin. If only she had the same outlook. Mr. Weasley placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back.

"Must be getting to the registry now," he said as he nudged her away from Justin.

"Good luck and good life, Hermione," Justin said as she stepped away from him and approached a woman sitting at a long table in the middle of the hall, her tiny horn-rimmed glasses resting at the very end of her hooked nose.

"Name," she said blandly.

"Hermione Granger."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"Blood-status?"

Hermione took a sharp breath in. Was it not obvious?

"Muggle-born." The woman behind the table held out her hand toward Hermione, as if she was asking for something. Hermione hesitated. She shook her hand at her and looked up in frustration.

"Your wand, please."

"My wand?" Hermione questioned defensively.

"You will get your wand back upon your collection," the woman said. Hermione reluctantly gave the woman her wand, and was very hard-pressed to release it from her grasp. There was no sense in fighting it. This was the way of life now.

"Your arm please." Hermione held out her right arm to the woman. "Your left arm please." Hermione's stomach fell as she held out her left arm, the snow white scar given to her by Bellatrix Lestrange emblazoned for the world to see. She saw the woman's stone face fall ever so slightly, a hint of remorse washing over her stern expression. Hermione thought she heard her whisper under her breath, 'I'm sorry, dear,' but she may have imagined it. The woman held her wand to Hermione's wrist. Hermione pulled back out of panic. "This won't hurt, Miss Granger. Just a tracking charm." Her tone was a little less harsh now as the tip of her wand glowed blue against her skin, and a tiny dot seeped down and traveled up her forearm, finally dissipating in the crook of her elbow. "Please follow the silver trail through the door on the right. The bidding will begin at a quarter past." She waved her hand, shooing Hermione away.

"I'm afraid this is as far as we are allowed," Remus said to Hermione as he pulled her into him for a hug. "You will be fine. Even if the worst were to happen, you will still be fine. Remember yourself. Let your strength guide you." She felt hot tears rising as Remus released her. "Don't let them see you crying, Hermione. You don't want to mess up that makeup that Tonks put on you either," he said with a gentle smile. Mr. Weasley squeezed her shoulder firmly, and then she headed to her fate.

Hermione quickly met a line that was filing into a circular room that appeared to be a sort of courtroom. She and about twenty others were seated around the room, with none other than Her Honor Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge perched up high in a pulpit, looking down on them all.

"Good evening to all of you," she said, her squeaky voice booming around the room with the help of a sonorous charm. "I'm sure all of you know who I am." She looked along the crowd with a smirk, hoping for some kind of recognition that was forsaken her. "You are here today to be matched to a pure-blood witch or wizard. The proceedings today will be as follows. I will call your name and you will come stand in the middle of the forum floor until you are instructed to exit. You will then walk through this door to my left into a holding room where you will await your match. Once the bidding has ended, you will be collected by the witch or wizard who won your bid and you will begin your new marital life. As the pure-blood individuals have also been instructed, nuptials must be made by September twentieth of this year or consequences will arise." The entire room was silent aside from a couple of sniffs and sighs. "Jolly," Umbridge said with a smile that made Hermione's skin crawl. "Let's begin. Aberdeen, Estella." Hermone watched as a woman slightly older than she descended the stairs and stood in the middle of the room. Her hair was a dark auburn, and her yellow sundress was a little bit tight around her full hips. She stood there for almost a full minute before Umbridge cleared her throat and shooed her away through the door.

About ten others, including Justin Finch-Fletchley, preceded her before her name was finally called. Umbridge twisted her mouth and scrunched her nose before saying, "Granger, Hermione." Hermione imagined she still had nightmares from when she was grabbed by Grawp and carried through the Forbidden Forest by the centaurs. It took all of her self-control to hold a snide chuckle in her direction as she recalled the scene. She walked carefully down the stairs and found her place in the middle of the room. She placed her cupped hands neatly in front of her body, aimed her body in a charming position, and tucked her chin ever so slightly as to create the illusion of submission. After what seemed like ages, her body felt as though it had begun to sway. She was worried about losing her balance when she was finally released by Umbridge's hand. She exhaled deeply as she realized she had been holding her breath the entire time she stood there.

Outside of the door, there was an elderly wizard who took her arm silently and led her down a corridor lined with doors. Toward the middle of the hallway, he paused and gestured to her to enter a room label '091979-2.'

"Wait in here, my dear, and you will be collected shortly," the old wizard said as he nudged her into the room and closed the door behind her. The room was relatively bare aside from a cushioned sofa and a couple of arm chairs. Now all there was for Hermione to do was wait. She sat in the empty room until the light outside had completely dissipated, and the bright lights of the night were shining through the window. She looked down at the streets of London and wondered if she could jump. It would certainly be easy, and she wouldn't have to ever worry about being forced into a marriage that she didn't want. But then she remembered what Remus had said before she was taken to the courtroom. 'Let your strength guide you.' She shook the idea from her head as the doorknob to the room finally turned. Her fiance was here to collect her. She turned slowly, her eyes fixed as the door slipped across the red carpet. She laid her eyes on her final suitor, and vomit rose in her throat as a tall, thin figure stepped in and looked at her with grey eyes so lifeless they could have turned her completely to stone. Her insides went cold and she lost her balance as she grabbed at the windowsill to steady herself. She was to be the wife of Draco Malfoy.