A stag bounded into the bedroom, and Draco sat straight up. The sheets bunched at his waist as he dragged a hand down his face. "Robards wants all aurors in the DMLE now. Something's happened." Potter's Patronus revealed nothing else. With his stomach twisting, Draco stole a peek at the woman laying next to him.

Astoria was awake. She reached for him sleepily. Her fingers closed around his forearm, and she nuzzled the patch of skin there. "What's wrong?" Draco doubted she would remember this when she woke up in a few hours. "Draco?"

"I don't know." Brushing her hair back, Draco was reminded that, for all their arguments, none of them were truly her fault. All she wanted was to be married to someone who loved her. What a pity that it had to be him. "You should go back to sleep. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"No, you won't." Astoria didn't let go of him, but her eyes fluttered shut. "We have a meeting with a caterer later today. If you can't make it, I'm going to make the decision by myself. That's not really new, though, is it?"

His heart slowed, and an apology formed, just at the tip of his tongue. "Astoria, I—"

She gave a soft, little snore and turned her face into the sheets. Her grip on him loosened, but he stayed in bed for just a few more moments.

Draco's whispered apology went unnoticed, but it wouldn't have meant a damn thing even if she'd heard it.

Potter rushed him in the atrium and Weasley wasn't far behind him. "Fucking took you long enough. Robards is waiting in the conference room."

The Ministry was silent so early in the morning, the atrium empty besides the three of them, and Draco cast a look at the dim lights overhead. "You said he wanted all aurors here?" The three of them crossed the room in a hurry and climbed into the lift. "What happened?"

That was the question. Already, Draco wondered if there had been an attack, which was the only reason he could believe Robards wanted all of them in the same room outside of a meeting. Even then, they were never together. There were just too many people.

"Don't know." Ron raked his fingers through his hair. "He didn't say, but sounds like it's bad."

They stepped out as the lift came to a wheezing stop. Down the corridor, in the last room on the left, Draco saw that Potter hadn't been kidding. It looked like every person in the department had arrived. Robards stood behind the podium at the front, which looked like a toy compared to the large figure behind it. "Alright," his voice boomed, cutting off the idle chatter. "We've got a few of you missing, but there's no time to wait. Have a seat." He nodded to them.

Slipping into one of the only free chairs, and cutting Harry off to get it, Draco turned his gaze towards the front of the room. To his right, Susan Bones bounced her leg under the table. Across from him, Terry Boot chewed his nails. So, he wasn't the only one who noticed the tension in the room.

"In a few hours, Minister Shacklebolt is going to issue a statement to the public. The Wizengamot has passed a new bill since last night and—" He gritted his teeth, flexed his fingers around the edges of the podium until his knuckles were white. "They're expecting backlash."

His partner pinched his shoulder, and Draco swatted his hand away, mouthing, "Quit it."

"What law? Can't be that bad." A junior auror spoke out, his face going pale when all eyes fell to him.

Robards swallowed, his throat contracting with the movement. "Since the end of the war, there's been a drop in births. From my limited understanding, there's usually a boom—"

"I know I was shagging anything that could walk because I was so relieved to be alive." Draco didn't know where the whisper—not that it was much of one—came from, but quiet agreements chimed in and led to the reddening of their boss's face.

"Right." Robards' voice remained tight. "Well, maybe that happened this time, too, but it didn't lead to children."

It had only been eight years. Was that even enough time for the Ministry to decide that the problem was bad enough to intervene? Draco couldn't imagine how they could intervene, but as lead formed in the pit of his stomach, he realized that was exactly why they'd been gathered.

"Look—they've decided—" Drawing a long breath, his fingers paling even further, Robards glared over their heads. "There's not an easy way to say this, so please do your best not to hex the messenger. Late last night, the Wizengamot gathered and spoke with Ministry officials. In a vote, they've decided to implement something they're calling a marriage incentive."

Ron's head whipped toward him and Harry, who stood on the other side of him. "What does that mean?" he hissed.

Standing without thinking, it was all he could do to watch confusion ripple through the room.

Robards didn't tell them everything, and it stood to reason he was under instructions from the Minister not to. Still, he'd told them enough. With a sideways glance toward either of the men beside him, Draco knew it was going to be a long day.

As the minutes counted down to nine o'clock, Draco stood in the line of aurors behind Minister Shacklebolt. With his hands clasped in front of him, he swept a glance over the crowd, eyes narrowing on the bustling reporters trying to force their way to the front. Right about now, he wasn't envious of the aurors standing between the crowd and the podium they'd dragged outside.

Within minutes, the crowd would try to push their way forward.

He rolled his head to the side and flexed his fingers.

Even though he ought to have paid attention to the announcement, it passed in a blur. Too preoccupied with the faces that quickly turned red, he only caught the highlights.

The incentive—which was a polite way of saying this is going to be a law, but since we're giving you the choice, that makes it okay—would last for four months. In the interim, the public between the ages of twenty and forty could either marry someone of their own choosing, or subject themselves to a Ministry mandated match at the deadline.

That morning, Boot had muttered that at least Draco already had a pretty witch for his fianceé. He'd be spared from the law, unlike the rest of them. The words echoed in his head, and Draco's fingers tightened where they were threaded together. Spared. Yeah, that's the word I'd use.

There was some sort of charm, Shacklebolt attempted to reassure everyone, which meant all matches would be… compatible. Draco might have believed the man—though he doubted it—if the Minister hadn't stumbled at the end of the sentence.

Draco knew nothing about the charm, but there was little doubt all of the details would find their way into the Daily Prophet soon enough. What the fuck does that even mean? he'd hissed under his breath that morning. A compatibility charm?

There was the reassurance that all matches would come with a protective measure. Spouses wouldn't be able to harm each other, he promised, but it didn't go far when it came to appeasing an angry mob.

The point was clear: procreation.

What a dystopian concept. Here they were, years after the fall of the Dark Lord—and his Dark Mark still itched under his sleeve at the thought—and citizens were scared. Right now, they were angry, but the fear would settle in soon enough.

From waking to his partner's Patronus looming over him to now, it had been a bad day. Running on fumes, he could see his fellow aurors already running ragged. Some of them anyway—they had kept the junior bunch behind them. A last resort as it were. Draco sincerely doubted anyone was going to charge at Harry bloody Potter, who was luckily next to him.

A short, curly-headed witch pushed her glasses up her nose and scribbled across her notepad. "Minister! Do you think this is the best way? It's—" The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the crowd.

"Yes," came the reply.

Potter elbowed him, looking from him to Ron. "Here it comes. You ready?"

Wrapping his fingers around his wand, Draco unclenched his jaw.

The crowd rushed and the gate toppled over, not that it offered a worthwhile barrier anyway. Defensive spells bounced around, and he spotted the Minister being led away from the corner of his eye.

"Stop!" Draco caught the arm of a wizard who tried to push past him. "Look, you don't want to do that, mate."

He spat on Draco. "Not your fucking mate."

Steering him backwards, Draco's day went from bad to worse. "Attacking an auror is only going to land you in a holding cell. Unless you want that, I'd leave if I were you." He rustled free of Draco's grip.

"Malfoy, on your left!" Harry shouted.

The impact of a fist knocked him forward a step before he caught himself, and tightened his grip on his wand. Straightening, Draco glanced over his shoulder to find his former schoolmate staring at him. "McLaggen," he snarled.

Apparently, the bad day had only just gotten started.

Aside from a riot that had broken out during his first year in the DMLE—when he'd been stuck with all the shite assignments based on his last name alone—it had been the worst day he'd come up against yet. With a tired wave, more similar to throwing his hand in the air, Draco dragged himself towards the row of Floos in the atrium.

"No." He'd have recognized Granger's voice anywhere, especially when it sounded like that. Glancing up, Draco didn't look directly at her lest she feel his eyes on her. "I'm not going to—" Granger poked her finger into Saul Croaker's sternum hard.

He muttered something, but with the distance, Draco couldn't make out the words.

Though the thought crossed his mind to interrupt them, Draco didn't break his stride. Even if he weren't exhausted, Granger could handle her own. And if she wanted to yell at the head of her department in the middle of the ministry, then that was her business. Besides, he'd learned more than once that anyone she targeted probably deserved it.

Still, it made him wonder.

He grabbed a handful of green powder, and hurled it at his feet as he called out for his flat. With any luck—and not because he couldn't stand the thought of seeing her—Astoria would be visiting her sister. Maybe he would be able to get some sleep before the worst of the public reaction hit.

Sure, today had been hellacious, and sure, his temple still ached from the sucker punch Cormac McLaggen had landed. But there would be protests organized tonight, and he had a feeling everything would be much worse in the morning.

The moment he stepped out of his fireplace and spotted his parents on the sofa, he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep. "Mother, Father," he greeted tightly. "To what do I owe this surprise?"

Astoria rose from her seat, smoothing her dress before she stepped behind him to take his coat. The domesticity left a bad taste in his mouth. God, he needed to stop dragging his feet, and while being on the cusp of a decision hadn't been much, it had been something before the world imploded.

One way or another, he'd have to be married in four months, and now that the curtain had been ripped away in his head, Draco could almost taste the words: I don't want a wife.

"We have questions." Tori folded his uniform jacket and laid it over the chair. Still, he caught the way she turned to tell a house elf, only to be reminded, once again, that they didn't have one. "I'm hoping you might have answers."

Draco collapsed into the nearest chair and rubbed his temple, which brought the ache flaring back to life. "I know about as much as the public does, currently. Fuck, you might know more than me."

Narcissa shifted at the crass language. "I think the main question all of us has is—"

"Are they going to end our engagement?" She tried to keep busy by fidgeting with a loose string of her dress—which must have unraveled by her wandering hands over the day—but failed. "When I heard the news, I was with the caterer, and—" She swallowed a weak sound. "I was told it might be best for us to wait on issuing a final payment, just in case."

In a move Draco had inherited, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're not going to dissolve previously registered engagements, and the two of you have been registered for months. You don't have to worry about that."

I'm still a coward then. It would have been easier if the engagement was dissolved, but it wouldn't have done anyway. The only way out would be admitting the truth.

He was a bastard. Astoria didn't deserve this.

"At most," Lucius took his wife's hand. "The Ministry will require both of you to have the charm performed, but that won't be a problem."

To Astoria, who chose not to look any deeper, it meant there would be little doubt that they were compatible.

However, Draco caught the meaning and the look in his father's eyes. Anything could be bought, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time a Malfoy had bribed the Ministry.

He wanted nothing to do with it.

"So, there's no need to be worried, Astoria. We'll take care of it." Lucius nodded towards them.

Right, they would take care of it.

His father asked him whether he'd come to a decision when Astoria announced she planned to stay with Daphne for the night. "It's obvious neither of you are getting on." Lucius held the glass of firewhisky, and the ice knocked against the sides.

Bracing his elbows against the table, Draco didn't reply. What could he say?

"Would you like to hear my opinion?"

"You're going to tell me to marry her whether I want to or not." Draco sighed. "It's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it?"

Another drink, quickly followed by the tilt of Lucius' mouth. "I would have said that if you were an adult ten years ago, but the world has changed now. I admit I've not changed as much as your mother has, but I like to believe it's made a difference."

Draco didn't follow.

"Why did you propose to Astoria?"

That night, in a restaurant Blaise had recently opened, felt so far away now that he got tunnel vision just thinking about it. He'd dropped to one knee—Draco could remember that part—and Astoria had cried. His heart had given a useless thump rather than quickening when she flung her arms around him.

It had been wrong.

With his father still staring at him, expecting an answer, Draco sighed again. "I don't know."

"You've let this get too far." Another drink. Another clink of ice against the glass. "You look like you need a drink, Draco. Perhaps the entire bottle?"

He laughed miserably. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, the truth of all of this is that one way or another, you'll be married soon. Astoria is a lovely young woman, but she makes you unhappy. That's no way to spend the rest of your life."

That was not what he'd been expecting.

It's just how things are done, Potter.

"Do you want to marry her?"

No. Draco gulped and shook his head. "I got swept up in the fact that it's always been this way. Even as a child, I can remember being told that I would be married by this point—before this even—and I didn't know what I was doing with my life, so I…"

He'd fucked up.

Tremendously.

"She doesn't deserve this."

Lucius agreed. "It'll be messy, but I doubt Astoria was happy with you either. Though, that may be a more recent development."

His nose wrinkled at the insinuation.

"You've acted like a terrible prat, Draco." Lucius chuckled, draining the rest of his glass. "I have to ask if there's anyone that you want to marry."

"And if there is?" Draco laughed. "What are you going to do, fetch her?"

His father's expression remained serious. "Call it a theory, Draco. Just answer the question. Unlike you, I have a woman who actually enjoys my company waiting at home for me." The smirk gave too much away.

"That's my mother you're talking about." Draco shuddered. "And no, there's no one."

The chair creaked as Lucius pushed it back into place after standing. "I'd do nearly anything for you, but breaking off your engagement is not one of them. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded. "I'll speak with Astoria by the end of the week. Sooner than that if we can get in the same room." It wouldn't be an easy task, but Weasley would take his patrols if he asked.

Might hold it over his head and taunt that Draco owed him a favor, but he'd still do it.

"See that you do." Lucius squeezed his shoulder.

He waited for the sound of flames crackling before sinking into his seat. Draco heard a piece of paper crinkle in his pocket and pulled it out.

Granger's invitation. He'd forgotten all about it. Her name was written in wispy cursive that belonged to his mother, but it was wrinkled from his pockets since it'd been carried around. The edge was bent, and he flattened it against the table.

At least he wouldn't have to give her the bloody thing now, Draco supposed, but then he considered why he hadn't done so in the first place. Maybe it was because he was partially a coward, but he knew that wasn't the truth.

He'd wanted an excuse to see her again, just to check in on her, he promised himself. Granger had been sobbing openly in her office, after all, and that wasn't like her. She compartmentalized so well that it almost frightened him. For anything to cause a crack in her cool exterior—

His blood ran cold.

"It's my fault."

"I can't talk about it."

"I'd talk about this if I could, even if it was with you, but I've taken an oath as an Unspeakable."

Draco drew a sharp breath and stared at her name again. All of this—all of it—was due to declining birth rates. It was exactly the sort of project that would have been handed off to an Unspeakable. And statistics? There was no one better than her.

She'd been in the middle of a heated argument with Saul Croaker, the head of the Department of Mysteries.

He crunched the invitation in his hand, suddenly wide awake.

It was absurd to worry about her, but if he was right, she wouldn't be able to live with it. The guilt would eat her alive. Even if he was wrong, the thought of her being forced into a marriage she didn't want left him feeling hollow.

Potter and Weasley would rally around her. One of them would probably offer to marry her—he gritted his teeth—to spare her from the incentive. He'd given up the right to worry about her when he left her crying at the top of the astronomy tower at eighteen.

He ought to just go to sleep, forget about Granger, but for all he tried—and he fucking tried—Draco couldn't.

She'd dig her feet in until she was forcibly paired with someone else. Maybe they couldn't physically hurt her—whoever it was—but the point of the ruling was to procreate.

He Apparated from the inside of his flat without a second thought, the invitation still crushed in his hand.

As far as bad ideas went, this was probably the worst one he'd ever had—there had been some winners there, too. But with the sky opening up overhead, and lightning jetting in ragged jerks through the darkness, Draco climbed the iron stairs of the building. Tightening his coat around him, he kept his head down. If anyone saw him, the hair would give him away.

He didn't have anything to hide, Draco reassured himself, but he tugged the hood over his head anyway.

By the time he'd stepped in front of her door, and raised his hand to rap his knuckles against it, Draco had lost every ounce of nerve that had pushed him forward. Soft light pressed against the curtains that hung in the window, and he caught sight of her cat's tail swishing in the window. Crooks twisted around, peeking at him curiously.

Then he meowed.

Fuck.

"Crooks, what is it? Is someone there?"

The irritating little beast's squished nose twitched and he meowed again.

The door opened before he could Apparate. Draco froze as a strangled noise came from his throat and he just stared at her.

Her face was several shades paler, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Puffy and red, it was clear she'd been crying for a while. Probably since she left the Ministry.

"What are you doing here?" No acid. Granger tilted her head to the side, adjusting her shorts where they hung at a respectable length. "Malfoy?"

Crookshanks weaved between her legs and trotted onto the landing before pushing his head against Draco's ankle.

"He still likes you, apparently." Her voice cracked, and he wished he hadn't noticed it. Thing was, that had never been an option when it came to her. "You know, you're supposed to knock on the door, not linger outside like a creep."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I could call an auror if I wanted." She sniffed dramatically, and it felt like he'd been dropped into a different life.

Because she would never tease him like this in this one. "Well, you've got an auror right here if there is a creep, but I don't see one."

When she laughed, Draco didn't even try to stop his smile, not that he could have anyway. "Shall I get you a mirror so you can check again?"

Merlin, he'd forgotten how easy it was to talk to her.

Remembering came effortlessly, and the fact that it felt like taking a breath after being under water should have terrified him. And it did. Just not enough to make him leave.

"Malfoy." She scooped Crooks up and stepped backwards. "Do you have any idea what time it is? What are you doing here?"

Without fumbling—and only barely—Draco pulled the invitation from his pocket. "I was supposed to give you this earlier. With everything"—a dark look flashed over her face—"that happened today, I didn't get the chance." He pressed it into her hands, pulling away just as soon as he could without drawing attention to himself.

Her lips—pale and pretty, which shouldn't have mattered—pressed into a thin line. "You mean to tell me that you made a trip to my flat at midnight just to give me an invitation for your wedding?"

Well, when she put it like that, it just sounded ridiculous.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Granger tracked the movement.

"That's your tell." She leaned against the door frame. "Whenever you're lying, you do that. Always have."

Draco didn't know what to say.

She swallowed. "This isn't why you're here, Malfoy. Please don't lie to me either."

"No, I suppose it's not why." Draco mulled over her words again, knowing that he had lied to her, and she probably didn't realize just how far the lies had gone.

Granger heaved a sigh and set Crooks on the table as she stepped to the side. "I don't want to stand on the doorstep all night. If you want to talk to me, then…" She waved at the door. "Just close it behind you."

Without a second thought, Draco crossed the threshold and kicked it shut behind him before locking it. "I couldn't sleep because I think I know why you were crying."

Her shoulders tensed, and Draco wondered if she would decide to kick him out instead. "And that couldn't wait until tomorrow? Did you ever think about how it would look if you were caught coming to my flat in the middle of the night? Shouldn't you be home in bed with your fiancé?"

Was it just him or did she sound bitter? Only slightly.

It would have been best to admit that there wasn't going to be a wedding, but he'd already used the excuse of delivering the invitation. Content to look anywhere that wasn't her, Draco's eyes landed on a jumper draped over a chair and his stomach sank.

"He's not here." Granger snorted. "Viktor is away training."

He nearly commented that she still had a thing for quidditch players, despite hating the sport, but clamped his mouth shut before he could. "The marriage incentive…" Draco bit the inside of his cheek, watching as she squeezed her eyes shut. "They came to you, didn't they?"

Granger sat at the end of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her while dragging the sleeves of her loose sweater down over her knuckles. With her hair tied back, it bared her shoulders and the curve of her neck. "It's called Project Aphrodite."

That alone was more information than he'd expected her to divulge. His face must have given it away.

"They can't press charges for any breaks in my oath when it's only a matter of time before the media catches wind of it. Croaker said the harassment I'll receive from the public is better than they could do. He said I should at least be able to defend myself."

Draco perched on the edge of her coffee table, his hands curled into fists. "That's ridiculous."

She shrugged. "Last year, I was given an assignment to investigate why birth rates have dropped since the end of the war. By the time it was given to me, it had already been named, and within a month, I found a starting point." Shifting in her seat, she rubbed her temples. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't tell you to go away already."

"I'm a good listener, you know."

"Yeah—" Her voice was tight. "I know." The heavy silence that followed was thankfully broken when she continued. "There's an isolated, magical community off the coast of Japan that hasn't produced a squib in centuries. It's not on any maps that I've found, and finding it at all was purely luck."

Draco didn't ask how she'd found it, though he was awfully curious.

"There is a spell used to measure magical compatibility, but that's not all it takes into account. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to work my way to the end. I took a trip in December to visit the village after corresponding with them, and I had just gotten to read the original spells—" Her nails bit into the armrest, and there were indentions in the leather when she pulled away. Two weeks ago, it was ripped off my desk and thrown in front of the Wizengamot."

No wonder she'd been so upset.

Another swallow. Another moment where she squeezed her eyes shut, but Draco could see tears forming. "I didn't believe they would go through with it. I tried to stop it, but I never thought that it would pass."

"It's not your fault."

"I sat behind my best and did nothing. And for what? I spent most of my youth fighting for something, and when I applied for this position, I—"

He cleared his throat. "You said you intended to do some good in the world. I remember." Draco reached for her, and he'd barely brushed a thumb across her fingers before she yanked her hand back.

God, she flinched.

"Granger—" I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you. I shouldn't have spoken so easily with you. I shouldn't remember all these things, but I do.

"I think you should go home to your fiancé," Granger bit out, and both sides of her tone were sharp enough to impale himself. "I don't need your comfort."

Maybe not, but I want to give it.

Draco snapped his mouth shut before he said something that couldn't easily be taken back. "Goodnight, Granger."

She shut the door, and he'd expected to hear the lock flip into place, but instead he heard, "Goodnight, Draco."

Major thanks to dreamsofdramione for a killer beta job, and to mcal and feelingofthesea for pre-reading! I hope to hear from you what you think, and if you like, you're welcome in my ask box on tumblr too at mrsren96. Thanks for reading.