After his meeting with Draco Malfoy Blake sat back in his chair and thought of what had happened with Hermione. He was fond of the witch, but he still found it hard to call her his wife. She was very defiant and smart and perfectly able to think and stick up for herself, all of which were things that Blake liked about her; but she was beginning to bother him with every small thing she did. He frowned and realized that he should probably apologize to her for being so rough with her. That isn't how you treat a lady, anyhow.

He apparated outside their bedroom door without a second thought and rapped his knuckles on the door. He was met with silence.

Blake scowled at her being difficult and called fauxe-tenderly, "Hermione, I just wanted to apologize." More silence. He slowly turned the doorknob and saw her lying on her side on the bed. He resisted the urge to climb into bed and comfort her the only way he properly knew how; instead he moved to the foot of the bed and looked at her through the darkness. "I'm sorry, I had no right to be rough with you."

Hermione's voice was clear and thorough, but had he known her any better he would have recognized the tremor in her voice. "It's all right."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione glared at his silhouette, ready to kick him in the gut and hex him to bits. "Yes, I'm positive," she answered, clearly annoyed. "Now, I'm trying to sleep if you don't mind."

Blake winced at the hostility in her voice but quickly resorted to his smirk. He sat beside her feet and grabbed her foot, massaging it with nimble fingers. "Come on, how could I possibly make it up to you?" he murmured seductively. He slowly raised her foot and kissed her heel. He licked her toe and nearly sucked it had she not pulled away and jumped off of the bed.

"You certainly cannot buy my trust after manhandling me that way, let alone by trying to seduce me by sucking on my feet, you disgusting pig," Hermione said, her lip curled in disgust as she grabbed her wand and marched out of the room, scoffing and muttering angrily. Hermione hurried across flights of stairs and down hallways. She rounded corners and passed windows that showed the indigo night sky. Angry tears began to prick her eyes as she realized what kind of girl the Wrights took her for - just another witch who could easily be charmed into bed with the right amount of money and time. She knew she shouldn't care about what they thought of her but she was never the most confident girl in the room.

After that awkward night with Blake she had decided to find a new bedroom for herself. She wandered throughout the night looking for a room that wasn't too small or too big, and didn't have a portrait in it. None of the portraits in Wright Manor seemed to be too polite.

The bedroom had a vanity, a modest bathroom, and a large bed with a canopy over it. The vanity had perfumes lined up against the mirror and a single silver hair brush. The bedroom walls were a deep emerald green with plum curtains with black lace on them. The bed had matching purple comforters and hundreds of down-feather pillows. What drew her to the room the most was the bookshelves that lined an entire wall. There was not a single space left on the shelves without a book to fill it. Thick or thin, poetry or philosophy, it was on that shelf. It reminded her of the library in Hogwarts.

She moved to the vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was much longer, reaching her lower back, but it was curlier than ever and more knotted. She took the silver hairbrush and dragged it through her hair, wincing as it pulled at her roots. She leaned in closer, realizing how red and large her eyes had become. She blinked a few times and frowned at her new appearance. She didn't feel beautiful.

She looked away from the mirror quickly and looked at her bed from her seat. It was too large for her small frail body, and she couldn't help but feel even more lonely as she thought of sleeping alone. She pointed her wand at the pillows and whispered, "Avifors." The pillows turned into silver birds that resembled patronuses, chirping and flying through the sheer canopy and flying around the room. Her lips trembled as she watched the beautiful sight. The birds eventually disintegrated, shimmering and fading into clusters of silver sparks that disappeared in the ceiling.

"Bombarda," she said, pointing her wand at the mirror. It shattered, with glass shards flying everywhere. Hermione felt a few prick her skin but she ignored them, looking at the mess with a slightly smug look on her face.

"Reparo!" The mirror quickly recreated itself as every last shard lifted itself up and flew to it's space in the glass puzzle.

She looked at the wand in her hand and grinned. She could do basic spells, and like George and Fred had done so long ago, she was using her wand to do everything. For a cup of water she would use aguamenti instead of asking for some from a house elf. The feeling she got when she cast her first spell after leaving the prison made her feel like how she did when she learned of Hogwarts when she was just eleven. She loved the new freedom she had gotten back ever since coming back from Azkaban.

The remembrance of the past five years flooded her overwhelmingly. She had just come back from prison! She nearly forgot. It was such a sudden change from the ominous darkness of the prison cell to the plush luxuries of Wright Manor.

"I'm a convicted criminal," Hermione said aloud. She couldn't help how surprised she felt every time she remembered this. As if everything she had experienced in Azkaban had actually happened to someone else, as she just sat and watched. She chuckled sourly as it dawned on her over and over again. She repeated it a few times under her breath, noting how unnatural it felt rolling off of her tongue. Her parents would probably die of mortification if they new she was sent to wizard prison.

Luckily, her parents were still in Australia living their lives as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. She never had the chance to return to them and alter their memories after the war, since she was immediately imprisoned. It was what was best for them, Hermione reminded herself. They would be in danger if they remembered everything she had told them about Harry and Ron and their antics. They needed this, she insisted.

Hermione shushed every thought of her parents and friends immediately. She knew how much it hurt to think of them. She couldn't let herself succumb to this. She retired to her bed with a book, making sure to keep her wand nearby just in case Blake decided to stop by.

Across the estate in Wright Tower, Blake sat angrily in his chair. He was absolutely fuming. Who did this girl think she was that she could walk around with her nose in the air? I gave her nothing but hospitality and love, he thought. I deserve some love in return!

He quickly scribbled a letter for his good friend on a piece of parchment, inviting him over for a glass of fire whiskey. He sent his owl, Bolt, out with the note and retired back to his chair. He sighed. What was he going to do about Hermione? This girl was fiery and defiant - traits that he used to like in a woman but now despised - and it made her almost unnaturally hard to be around. Blake wasn't a hard man to be with, just a little sex and some TLC and he was set, but if Hermione wanted to be difficult, so would he.

Blake looked up as the fireplace roared with life and looked at his friend with a bemused expression as he strolled to one of the chairs and sat.

"Took you long enough," Blake commented, pouring two glasses of fire whiskey.

"I had some things to take care of," Blaise Zabini answered lightly.

Blake handed Blaise his glass and they raised their glasses in a silent toast.

"What's the occasion?" Blaise asked.

"No occasion, I just got tired of this place."

"And a tad lonely?" Blaise added jokingly. The corner of his mouth raised slightly.

Blake enjoyed Blaise's quiet judgement of the world and his harshness, it was so much unlike Blake's charismatic and happy attitude. Blaise had a dry sense of humor with an even drier smile. Blake watched the shadow of the flames on Blaise's dark skin.

"Perhaps," Blake answered, shrugging and smiling.

"How're things going with mudblood Granger?" Blaise asked. He immediately remembered the girl from his years at Hogwarts when Blake told him of the arranged marriage. He enjoyed knowing that the Gryffindor Princess was put in her place after walking around the school looking down her nose at everyone. He remembered her bushy hair and brown eyes, and her awkward body that he insisted she hadn't grown into, although Draco sometimes disagreed.

"She's terrible to deal with, I want to hex her half the time she's in the room," Blake responded darkly. He drank the rest of his fire whiskey and enjoyed the burn in his throat.

Blaise chuckled silently. "Lovely," he drawled.

"She's a beautiful girl and incredibly intelligent," Blake said, "But she's an absolute terror. Even Mother hates her. But all of the house elves took to her."

Blaise grimaced as he remembered S.P.E.W.

"She won't even let me touch her!" Blake exclaimed exasperatedly. "She flinches at everything as if she's afraid it might hurt her. And she cries so much." He groaned and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. "I genuinely liked her before, but I'm about to give up and go back to bringing girls home again."

"I never took you for the infidelity type." A wry smile striked Blaise's features.

"I'm not," Blake was quick to defend himself, but then looked at Blaise's wry smile and grinned a bit himself. "If I'm having sex with one person, why would I need another on the side? At least now I'd only be having sex with one person. I'm only married by law, of course."

"I'm guessing you forgot the whole point of this marriage."

Blake looked dumbly at his friend.

"You're supposed to conceive with the mudblood, idiot," Blaise spoke to Blake as if he were stupid.

"She won't even let me touch her arm, let alone let me get into her bloody pants."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me." He sighed when Blake didn't answer. "Do you really want to disappoint the King?" Blaise watched as his friend amusingly kept his eyes downcast instead of answering the question. He graciously accepted another glass of fire whiskey. Blaise didn't find Voldemort as intimidating as others and enjoyed watching his colleagues and friends cower under his reign.

Blake scowled at his friend and decided not to answer. Blaise laughed aloud.

Blake's scowl turned even darker as his friend laughed at him. "I wouldn't have invited you if I knew you were just going to tease me. I could have just invited Granger to join me for a glass of whiskey instead of your hateful arse."

They chatted for a few more hours about pointless things. Blaise eventually became more comfortable in his chair, leaning back and swinging his leg over the arm rest. He continued to crack bad jokes and snickering at Blake's jabs at Hermione. Blake enjoyed his friend's company. It was a good change from the professionalism he always had to deal with. Blaise held himself with good integrity and he often proved to be a good friend. It was because of him that Blake offered Draco the job.

Draco Malfoy. Blake thought of the name bitterly. He wasn't a big fan of Draco, but he knew that he was a good auror. He knew all about Draco's background - he had his file in his desk under lock and key - but he still didn't like him. His arrogance was deafening and, although Blake didn't want to admit it - he always felt a tad threatened when he was in the room.

Several days later, Draco Malfoy sat in his new office in the new Department of Exploitation and Extermination. Things have changed greatly for him since the war. His parents had been murdered since they were seen as traitors but the King still thought of Draco as possible ammo. He still saw potential in the young blond man as he did when Draco was only eleven.

Draco was grateful for the job that had been given but he wasn't about to grovel at Blake Wright's feet.

Blake Wright.

Draco thought the name with a snort of disgust. What kind of man was he? Taking countless women home at a time - sometimes without their consent - just to fuck them senseless and tell them to leave. He knew how highly Blake thought of himself. He had the type of arrogant demeanor that made everyone want to follow his directions, except for Draco. Draco was used to challenging others, and he knew he posed some type of threat to Blake. Although Blake was higher up in status than Draco was at the moment, Draco knew that he was the original favorite. The Malfoys earned the place that they had at the King's right hand before the war! But the Wrights suddenly swept up that post.

He leaned back and put his feet on the desk, trying to find a comfortable position in the large black leather chair.

And what the hell was that Granger fool doing at Wright manor? Bethany tolerates mudbloods as much as the King does.

There was a knock at the door before a teenage-looking girl popped her head in. "Hi! I just wanted to introduce myself," she began, her bubbly voice invading Malfoy's personal space, "I'm Lillian Beau, I'm your new secretary. I'm very excited to be working with you." She finished, smiling brightly at her new boss. Draco knew that she was just faking enthusiasm for the sake of keeping her job.

Draco stared at his new secretary in discontent. He recognized her eagerness to please her boss. He shook his head at her. "There's no need for so much false enthusiasm," he sighed. Then he began the spiel: "I may come in late very frequently. When I arrive I expect a tea or coffee on my desk including that day's files and whatever else arrives. You'll have a thirty minute lunch at around 2 o'clock."

He thought for a few moments before speaking to her. "If any women ever call for a personal call just tell them I'm not in, but take down their names and numbers."

She nodded thoughtfully, jotting some of this down.

"I think that's all, your desk is just outside. Knock before you come in."

She hesitated when she reached for the door knob. She turned around towards her boss with a sigh and said, "Don't you want to know my name?"

Draco liked to believe he didn't have time for silly games like these. He raised his eyes brows and smirked a bit before saying, "Does it really matter?"

That shut her up.

With a rather loud slam of the door Draco leaned back in his seat and waved his wand numbly as he thought, making snow fall onto his desk. Where was he supposed to start with this new job? This was new to Draco. It had only hit him when he sat in the large black chair that almost felt like a throne - he's his own boss now. He has his own department in the Ministry of Magic. No parents, no bosses, no one to answer to anymore. No one to tell him where to sit, how to eat, or how to speak to others. Everything would be decided under what he deemed proper.

He didn't like the new job post, but it would have to do. He knew that it would earn him the respect and money he needed so desperately right now, but the job wasn't exactly ideal. The title alone made it obvious - the Department of Examinations and Exterminations.

Draco wanted to be done with the death eater lifestyle - really, he did! - but in reality, it was the only world he belonged in. It was either stay in England where his family has been for hundreds of years, or move to another place where he knew no one and start all over from the ground up.

An owl pecked at his window, its feathers white and gold with large beady eyes that watched him as he got up to open the window and let the bird in. It dropped a small scroll of parchment on his desk artistically tied with a brown string before swooping back out of the window. Draco shut the window against the Winter cold before opening the letter. His eyes skimmed every word written in a slightly messy script, over and over again. He had already read the letter four times before settling back down to his leather bound chair, summoning a bottle and glass of fire whiskey to calm his running nerves. This letter was absolutely preposterous; it couldn't possibly be a serious request.

He sighed and poured himself more than half a glass of fire whiskey before reading the letter once again. This was preposterous.