The introduction of two new suitors was hardly a revelation. What was a surprise was that Granger had accepted two more Dark Lord sympathizers into her entourage and now the snakes outnumbered the lions two to one.

Draco eyed Rupert Lestrange in complete disbelief. The young man was barely of age but held a lithe grace that his older companions had lost during the war. His dark auburn hair and jade green eyes were characteristic of the Lestrange bloodline as was his reputation for deceit. Rupert had escaped the call due to his age but Draco had heard stories of how the young man had been forced to participate in his family's more…intimate gatherings. The silver haired pureblood shuddered at the image of Bellatrix Lestrange beckoning her young cousin-by-marriage into her bedchambers. He would have gladly taken a second Mark to avoid that woman and whatever was between her thighs.

Why on earth had Granger invited a Lestrange into her home? Especially given the outcome the last time she had encountered one.

"Now that we are all present, gentleman, I believe it is time to go over some ground rules…"

"All, Severus?" Came his father's lazy drawl. "I thought you said the Lady Granger was entertaining fourteen suitors." He stood and gestured to the overcrowded drawing room. "There are a paltry eleven of us present."

Severus rolled his eyes at the interruption but replied in that same bored tone. "I am so glad the three fire whiskeys you've managed to down already haven't thwarted your ability to count, Lucius." A few dry smiles and chuckles met the barb and the Potions Master continued. "The other three young men withdrew their suit," a sharp glance at Fred Weasley told Draco that the other three suitors had been his brothers and Severus was not pleased by the insult delivered to his charge. "In the absence of any surviving family members, Lady Hermione Jean Granger has chosen me to act as her intermediary and representative during the courting process. As of this moment she has accepted to be courted by all of you." There was a familiar sneer at the end of Severus's speech and Draco knew he would find no ally in his godfather. His mind caught on the phrase 'surviving family members' before he was drawn back into the moment. "Tonight, you will all have the opportunity to dine with the Lady Granger. Tomorrow morning, owls bearing two flowers, either a yellow carnation or apple blossoms, will be delivered to your homes. If you receive an apple blossom, congratulations," Severus informed them drily, "you've made it past the first round. If you receive a yellow carnation…well, I assume you all know what that means."

Indeed they did. For Purebloods, flowers conveyed a wealth of meaning. Thoughts, feelings, intentions – everything a proper aristocrat was too polite to say out loud but artful enough to make known anyway. They were typically used during the courting process because it would be far too forward of the young couple to declare how much they wanted to rip each other's clothes off but in the language of flowers presenting your intended with an orange lily conveying the same emotion was perfectly acceptable. That Granger was using the exercise to declare her refusal or acceptance of her suitor's continued pursuit conveyed just how seriously she was taking their customs and culture.

Draco was impressed despite himself. And he felt the first glimmer of anticipation since that damned and blasted law had come out.

Fred Weasley had been in a mild state of shock since entering the large manor house. After all, this girl was his brother's best friend – had been her boyfriend there for a while – and he'd no clue she owned an estate by the sea. Hell, the witch had practically lived at his family's place every summer since she turned thirteen. They'd gone to school together. Been in the DA together. Fought a dark wizard and his army together!

And it was like he didn't know her at all.

Fred glanced around the room at his competition and couldn't help but feel a small bout of nerves. He may have been a pureblood, a scion of the Sacred 28, but it was in name only. He didn't have even a tenth of these other men's wealth. He didn't have their manners, their charm, or their connections. All he had was a joke shop and fervent desire to not be stuck marrying a perfect stranger.

He smiled to cover his nerves and smoothed a hand down his navy velvet suit. It was new – the shop was doing well enough that he'd been able to afford that at least – and he knew the color complimented his bright hair. Glancing over at Neville in his Gryffindor colors, Fred wondered if he shouldn't have gone that route instead.

Lord, what was the world coming to when he was envious of Neville Longbottom?

He brought his attention back to Snape – of all people she had to choose the old bat as her representative – and his explanation of the flower delivery. His mother had given him a quick course in pureblood customs before the dinner tonight and he had a general idea of the meaning of the flowers and their significance. He hadn't thought Granger would care that much about the outdated customs but catching the gleam in the eyes of some of the other men in the room the effort was apparently appreciated.

Fred had thought that his lack of caring would be his advantage. Granger wouldn't have to change for him. She wouldn't have to memorize the names of flowers and their meaning. She wouldn't have to put on fancy dinners on fancy places with fancy food and fancy people to fit into his world. She could keep reading her books and he would keep running his joke shop and maybe they would have a couple of kids and all the years of being comfortable around one another would grow into a warm, relaxed kind of love.

He took a gulp of his fire whiskey as another set of double doors opened and Snape led them all into an enormous dining room complete with three crystal chandeliers and candle sconces.

He hadn't thought that he might have to change for Granger.

The dining room was a picture of elegance and taste. Dark wood floors lent a charming history to the house – he was sure they were original – while the cream walls with gold emboss added a touch of French sophistication. The floor to ceiling windows – at least eighteen feet tall he noted – showed a beautiful view of the sea. The crystal chandeliers were spaced evenly across the mosaic ceiling and there were enough antique gold candle sconces to give the room a warm light.

The table was set for thirteen with the requisite number of Dutch porcelain plates, Waterford crystal wine glasses, and Portuguese silverware to please any grand dame of society.

Amon Shafiq paused at the threshold of the dining room as he eyed the large circular dining table skeptically.

"I see she's taken a page from T.H. White," Lord Nott remarked as he circled the large table.

There were gold embossed name tags indicating where each man was to sit. Amon was disgruntled to find he was four places away from the Lady Granger who had sat Master Snape to her right and Lucius Malfoy to her left.

"Who?" Lord Longbottom inquired, finding his own chair next to Snape. The man eyed the place card next to him as if debating on switching seats.

"Muggle author. Wrote about King Arthur and his roundtable," replied Nott, who had been seated almost directly across from Lady Granger.

As everyone found their seats and the wine was served the topic was once again picked up. "And what was the purpose of this…round table?" Amon asked. He, for one, was not a fan.

"King Arthur wished for each of his knights to be his equal," answered a melodic voice from the opposite side of the dining room. "No man was valued above the other."

Amon rose slowly from the table as the vision of loveliness walked towards them.

"My Lords, may I present, the Lady Hermione Jean Granger."