Draco Malfoy threw down the paper in frustration, threw an antique vase across the room (where it shattered spectacularly, sending glass cascading over the entirety of the fireplace.).
And then he stood up.
He had been patient, as a Slytherin does.
Now was the time to strike.
He shrugged himself out of his pajamas, and performed his morning ablutions. His hair was as thin and pin-straight as ever - he slicked it back with a light pomade. Then he looked at his suits, choosing one in a soft, pale blue that reminded him of his mother.
Inspecting himself in the mirror, he nodded. It was time.
Draco Malfoy flooed to Hogsmeade, suffering the glares of patrons of the Three Broomsticks with a insouciance that he knew would feed his reputation. But, after all, why should he care? It was always Potter concerned with reputation above all else.
Draco Malfoy walked to Hogwarts, less as punishment and more as time to organize his thoughts.
He arrived at the gates and entered, feeling the wards wash over him. He nodded, they were still as strong as ever. With luck, this would send Minerva McGonagall descending down on his head, as if she were in catform and springing down from a high shelf.
Draco walked towards the castle proper, strutting along the paths like a cat. A Slytherin is bold, when appropriate. In dealings with Gryffindors, it becomes imperative.
Minerva McGonagall did not, it would appear, have time to distract herself with a stray, graduated Slytherin.
So, Malfoy entered Hogwarts unheralded - and unremarked, using a few tapestries to slide around the clusters of gossipy students. Hogwarts had zillions of places to hide, it wasn't even difficult.
Draco Malfoy headed unerringly to a classroom he had... inhabited for only one of his seven years of Hogwarts schooling.
Muggle Studies. Time to follow the yellow brick road.
Draco Malfoy brushed invisible lint off his suit, and then knocked crisply on the door. Snape would be proud, he'd insisted we learn the Proper Protocols, after all. Not that Granger would notice.
"Come in," Granger's warm voice rang out. Time to give a little shade to that spot of sunlight.
Draco Malfoy entered as smoothly as possible, even closing the door and getting halfway to the nearest chair to her desk before she looked up.
"Draco Malfoy!" Hermione Granger snapped out, "What's your business?"
Draco let his mouth curl into a smirk, "The one and only. I'm here to call in that favor you owe me."
Granger's eyes flicked up at him, filled with fire. He saw her one hand that wasn't holding a quill clench into a fist. "What favor? I don't owe you any favors!"
Draco Malfoy smirked, turning around, "It's nice to know my donation is being used wisely." Casually, he leaned back against Granger's desk, putting both hands on it to brace himself.
"What? You didn't- I don't believe you!" Hermione Granger nearly shrieked.
"You can check with McGonagall if you don't believe me." Draco Malfoy smirked.
"I don't believe this. YOU are the anonymous donor?" Hermione nearly flounced, rising from her desk - Draco was watching her from a mirror that had thoughtfully been put in a corner of the room (apparently to emphasize that Magic Mirrors did not exist in Mundania).
"Ask McGonagall if you don't believe me." Draco didn't need to look back to hear Hermione's frustration, it almost felt like she was simmering.
"Assuming you aren't lying your lily white ass off," Hermione started, and Draco suppressed a smirk. He'd rib her about the racial slur later. "What is this favor?"
"You've been leading the crusade against this Marriage Law, haven't you?" Draco said, and Hermione, bless her sweet soul, shut the fuck up for once. They both knew she had. "I want in."
"You want to help?" Hermione Granger asked, her eyes bulging out of her head, in a manner that was nearly as satisfying as her silence had been. "Why?" She was asking this question because her good pals Ron and Harry had declared themselves satisfied - or at least stymied, with a delay in the law's applicability. Potter's agegroup would not be affected, would not need to marry. Younger children would be forced to marry, as young as twelve.
Draco Malfoy rolled up his sleeve, showing off the Dark Mark, "There's been enough slavery, don't you think?"
Hermione Granger seemed to pale at the Dark Mark, her hand reaching out almost unconsciously to touch it, before she seemed to remember herself.
Typical, Hermione Granger thought, Draco Malfoy thinks he needs to employ blackmail in order to be allowed to help. "Welcome aboard." Hermione had been there once, she reflected. Once, before Hogwarts, unsure that anyone would ever like her as a friend. Besides, she really could use the help!
[One year ago:]
Draco Malfoy hadn't been sentenced to Azkaban. He'd been thrilled about that for about as long as it took the judge to get the next sentence out. Apparently they were levying enough of a fine to turn the Malfoys into paupers.
Two days later, Draco Malfoy had sat in front of two Ministry lawyers. It was supposed to be a simple meeting, but Draco Malfoy had had a brilliant idea. Now, he just needed to explain it to them.
"I'll sign over the money," Draco Malfoy said, "But I want control over where it goes."
"Mister Malfoy," said the twitchy lawyer, his thin leg jittering. "I hope you understand that we cannot allow you to send your money to a safe haven."
Draco said, with a sneer, "Obviously."
The lawyer that was built like a bull said, "And we can't let you donate to causes that will be perceived as benefiting purebloods unduly."
"Absolutely," Draco said with a firm nod.
"Well then, what did you have in mind?" The bull-like woman asked.
"I've become concerned about the state of Muggle Studies in Hogwarts. I wish to quadruple the current funding, create a titled chair for the position, with tenure, and pay for the next teacher to write her own book." Draco Malfoy said.
The lawyers blinked at him, "That... would be acceptable." He could just see them trying to figure out his angle. He fought the urge to smirk, they'd never get it.
"Additionally, I wish this donation to be in perpetuity, and anonymous." Draco Malfoy said. Both lawyers stirred at the last word. Lucius Malfoy had been famous for his donations, but they'd always been showy things.
"Just sign here," the fidgety lawyer managed, after a short pause.
In the next year, Draco Malfoy would sneer at his friends, and tell them that he was sticking it to the Gryffindor - a form of final revenge, that the Gryffindor Brain couldn't find a job without depending on Malfoy Money. McGonagall, however, he told a golden lie, that he didn't want to be like his father, and he'd rather the source of the money be kept quiet... lest their be questions.
They were both lies, truth be told, because no one would believe the real reason. Draco Malfoy was utterly fascinated with the Muggle world. He'd never been, of course, his father had nearly skinned him alive when he was caught with a short, bigoted book on Muggles. And he certainly couldn't rely on the Carrows teaching.
As a Malfoy, he did what Malfoys generally did, when they had a problem. He threw money at the project. In this case, he'd strongly hinted to McGonagall that Granger would be a fine choice, at least for the first year. He'd read her potions work, more than once, and knew that she was quite capable of crafting a textbook that would prepare any pureblood to venture into the Muggle world. Even a Malfoy.
[Yesterday:]
Harry Potter was in a state, as Hermione Granger flooed over to his house. Just one look into her fire-filled eyes, and Harry wanted to sob. "It was the best I could do, Hermione," Harry pleaded. "I went up to the Minister himself."
"We have to try harder!" Hermione seethed.
Ron looked up, "I don't think it'll help, Hermione."
"I called in my last card," Harry said heavily. "I don't have anything else to play."
"You could go rogue!" Hermione said, in a flash of inspiration.
"I'd lose my job," Harry said, "And I'm not sure it would help. We've already had tons of articles in the paper. Those stupid stuck-up sods think they know what's best for everyone."
Ron said, softly, "We haven't even tried it yet..."
Hermione rounded on Ron, "It doesn't matter. They're forcing people to marry, against their will!"
Harry was left looking up at Hermione, saying softly, "We tried. We did our best."
Ron nodded along, saying, "We're with you to hell and back, but... you can't roll a boulder uphill."
Hermione suppressed a smile at Ron's use of her greek mythology book. Shakily, she nodded. "I've got work to do."
Ron and Harry suppressed a sigh of relief, that Hermione hadn't broken down crying.
[a/n: Reviews, as always, will be appreciated. As you can see, timing is everything!
And if you want this fic to continue, you will Review!]