Chapter II

Merlin must really hate me. He makes me wonder what I've done to deserve this. I don't really even know what I did to deserve this. Maybe it wasn't even Merlin who was screwing with me right now. Maybe it was just my life. Life is a distasteful, bloody bitch who loves bitching us in the worst ways possible, and then we die; because that's all there is to life, isn't it? Life toys with people. It lulls you into this false sense of security. Your life goes well, really well and then the next minute, you begin to wonder if whatever you did in the past was a lie. Life has this incredible, fool-proof way of crushing people, making them extremely vulnerable, and then, after life has its fun, you die.

However, I will not be a plaything.

After all, I am the Draco Malfoy, and I will not be toyed with. Not by life, not by circumstance, not by anything, lest they pay the price.

I found myself at Blaise's floor in his company building, like I usually do, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. It's a… friendly tradition that started when we both graduated Hogwarts. After the war, everyone needed to get back on their feet again. That wasn't just for the… well, not so fortunate families. The… well, to say the least, wealthier families, especially those who were actually capable of providing jobs for people took a huge blow. The war practically left the wizarding community for dead, and it took a long time for the wizarding economy to be stable again. Trust me, it wasn't pretty. It was hard work trying to get people to invest in something that apparently, four years ago, people didn't buy, or even give a rat's ass about. All we ever thought about before was survival. Screw designer robes and the world's fastest brooms.

Blaise Zabini's company was really getting back into the game, and by that I mean their profits were skyrocketing in ways I'd like to see Malfoy Inc. doing. It is not, however, that Malfoy Inc. was doing badly; it was doing fine under present circumstances, though it really did do better than this before the war, and I am having a bloody hard time trying to manage the thing. I don't really know if it's a good thing to be envious of your best mate and his amazing wife, but yeah. Oh. Didn't I mention Blaise Zabini married Astoria Greengrass? They were really good friends of mine… and business partners.

However, as much as Blaise is my best mate and all that standard bullshit, he has this way of making his guests wait. It's extremely frustrating. Had he no idea who he was… making wait? I'm Draco bloody Malfoy for Merlin's sake. I don't give a shit if we are best mates or whatever the bloody hell, I've been sitting out here for two hours, waiting for word that Zabini hasn't suffocated himself in his 'business meeting'. Hmph. Business meeting my ass. If I knew better, he was in there shagging Astoria as I rant. Screw this. I try staring blankly at the ceiling; it got boring quite fast though. That was so damn sad.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Blaise's assistant, a plump, slightly older woman – per Astoria's request – finally came up to me and said, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini will see you now."

Well finally. Blaise was in a 'company meeting' when I got here and after what seemed like… well, forever, to say the least, the bastard finally got out of his office. Blaise and I were fire and water, wind and earth, black and white. He was the kind of guy who always took things lightly, did whatever he wanted, when he wanted. I was nothing like that. Though both our fathers were death eaters and… pretty much a Voldemort's biggest fans, Blaise's father never imposed on him. My father was simply in love with the idea of killing me, his son. Hah. Some father.

"Draco!" he greeted cheerfully. See, this is why I know that he didn't come from some bloody company meeting. Usually, company meetings left Blaise… cranky and… well, generally not in the mood to talk.

"Blaise," I greet back, trying to hide the fact that I knew something. It was hard to look Blaise in the eye in times like this – because if I did, I'd just laugh my arse off. What, just because I'm a Malfoy I can't find things funny now, huh? That's no way to live. He – Blaise – cocked his eyebrow, and I tried to hold my laughter in. His grin turned into a smirk. We both start laughing. Hah. This Blaise was my best mate. Blaise was the kind of friend who wasn't the one to bail you out of trouble, but was in trouble with you. We don't always see eye-to-eye, but who says friends always do anyway?

"So, how may I offer my services to the great Draco Malfoy?" He said, quite comically whilst leading me into his office. Blaise sat at the couch in the middle of the room, right before his desk, and placed his feet on his coffee table. And that, right there, is another difference between Blaise and I – I don't do coffee tables. I sigh and take the couch directly in front of him.

"Have you heard?" I asked. The question itself left me uneasy. The thought of the apparent marriage that is to ensue still hasn't sunk in. I doubt it ever will, honestly. It's hard to take something you don't care about seriously – and it's even harder when you yourself think it's a joke that the world is playing on you, the unlucky simpleton.

"I might've. There's nothing that doesn't reach my ears eventually. But that does, however, depend on what we're talking about." He says. He's mocking me. I can feel it. Zabini never took me seriously when I was serious, and took me quite seriously when I joked. Ironic, isn't it?

"Screw the act Blaise."

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, I honestly have no idea whatever you mean."

"Alright, if you're so keen on pretending not to know, mate, I have a few hints for you. Get ready." I said, sarcastically. "Wizarding Law 2778."

I couldn't read Blaise's face when I said Wizarding Law 2778. It was a mix of shock, amusement, curiosity and… stuff in the middle, but yeah. That's what it looked like. Blaise must've been, at the very least, shocked because… well, his calm and collected Zabini demeanor had just so suddenly disappeared.

"When and to who." He finally said, trying not to laugh but… failing miserably. Some friend he was.

"In two weeks. Hermione Granger."

"You can't be serious." He said, his laugh fading quickly. He always had a soft-spot for mudblood Granger. He was always against picking on Potter-Squad simply because she was there. If it hasn't occurred to you yet, Blaise Zabini had… or even still has this… schoolboy crush on Hermione Granger. "I thought she'd ended up with Weasel-bee!"

"That's exactly what I said to Kingsley when he told me I was marrying her." I said. Of course, everyone was convinced that Wizarding Law 2778 was the world's biggest joke, and well, I guess this just cuts the cake. My marriage just happened to be the punch line. No one dare believe of the Ministry's choice when told at first. It was understandable, but still very unsettling and disturbing. "Apparently, Weasel-bee ended up marrying Loony Lovegood."

Blaise laughed. "That's rich!" I honestly didn't see what was so funny. He just continued laughing. Moments later, he stopped and said, "C'mon Draco. Who is it, and when are you getting married?"

"I'm not joking, mate." That very statement was enough to leave Blaise speechless. He studied me for a while; apparently he could never believe that I was marrying Granger – not that I blame him. Two days ago, I would've said the same thing. I'd look at you as if you had grown three heads and a tail, then laugh at your face and tell you to go admit yourself to Saint Mungo's. I'd tell you that you were crazy – but right now? I'd ask you where I could run to hide.

"Wasn't there anyone else?" Blaise can lie to anyone, but he can't lie to me. He thinks I'm no good for her. He's probably right though. Granger was a war hero. I'm Death Eater Junior. She's Gryffindor, I'm Slytherin. There couldn't be more of a difference than that, could there?

"I wish." I say, chuckling mirthlessly. "Unless you want your best mate to marry Millicent Bulstrode, then no, there's no one else."

"Do you even think you'd get along with her?" He asked. Wasn't he making an effort to be subtle.

"Get along with whom, Mudblood Granger?" I said, laughing. "Mate, I don't think I'd get along with her at all, much less live with her without killing her."

"You can at least try, Draco." He said, creasing his eyebrows. It was rare to even see this side of Blaise. "It's been four years after all, and you have no way out of this. The law is the law, and if you're getting married, you might as well try to live with each other while trying not to kill each other."

"Why the bloody fuck does everyone use that sentence against me!" I said, flailing my hands up in exasperation. Damn it all.

Blaise looked at me for a while with a solemn expression on his face. I didn't know who he felt sorry for, Granger, or me. However, I think it's more likely he was sorry for Granger, and not his best mate. Damn him to hell if he actually thought that. The awkward silence continued on, and the only sound that was made was the sound of fire cracking in the fireplace. Blaise sighs.

"Want to go for a drink, mate?" Blaise says finally, smirking while he was at it.

This was what friends were for. "Well do I."

Today is the day before the day that… I get wed, and the day that I decided to visit my parents' graves, and ask them for the blessings I know they'd never give me, even in the afterlife; if there was such a thing. I promised myself I'd come here before my wedding, and I intended to uphold that promise even given the current situation I was in. I could see them both right now, telling me to go and run, or use whatever is left of the power that the Malfoy family holds just to stop this travesty of a wedding.

After all, they wouldn't want me to sully the Malfoy name, would they? Hell, I bet they'd tell me to marry Bulstrode simply because of blood purity, which I have never actually believed in, but continue to abuse. Why? Don't ask. I don't know the answer to that question myself. You can say its pride, or that it's just something I grew up with. But that doesn't make it much of an excuse, I guess. Hey, I grew up too you know – and growing up proved to be a harsh thing, because it was when I grew up that I realized my entire life was wrong.

This whole affair of even coming to the cemetery made me uneasy. Apparently, I still had that nerve inside me; that one nerve that wanted to please mother and father, the same one that I don't need. It just got worse as I approached their graves. It was in the Malfoy Family Plot, under this huge, shady tree. It's amazing how their graves were still… luxurious even after what they did, simply because their family name was Malfoy. It's something I don't get to this day.

Yes. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy died during the second wizarding war. If you're going to pity me, I tell you right now. Do not. If you asked me if I loved them, I can't answer you honestly. However, if you ask me if I'm thankful, then yes. They did after all, give me my life; one life that I was hell-bent on not ruining further.

No, I'm not saying marrying Hermione bloody Granger would magically make everything better. This isn't some cheesy love story, where everything just gets better and better my friend. Far from it, since people who were in love stories, are usually in love, not just... forced to get married by some stupid law passed down which you forgot about. I don't even know why I'm here. Why I don't just escape while I still have the chance. That'd very well be what my parents would tell me to do, not that I was willing to let them tell me what to do any further.

I knelt down and lay the flowers in between the two graves, touching my mother's stone, but daring not even look at my father's. I don't hate him; I just… don't want anything that has anything to do with him. Not anymore. "Mother, father. I'm getting married tomorrow, and I just thought… you should know."

I stood up, and then I stared blankly at the gravestones. Whoever thought of the words on them were idiots – seriously – Lucius Malfoy; 'loving father'? Loving father my inheritance. Why didn't I notice those before? Simple. When they were first buried, I wasn't there. I didn't attend that… that sad excuse for a funeral. You know, when someone dies and you're the only one who goes to their wake, that's just a sad, sad thing to do.

Not to mention the fact that it hurts, especially when they're your parents.

I turned my heel and tried to leave, but then I notice someone else arriving in the cemetery. She didn't seem to notice me, but I was curious. Who would go to a cemetery at this time of year? Well, that includes me, of course, but I have my reasons. As I observed further, I notice that it was… Granger?

What could mudblood Granger possibly be doing at a Pureblood cemetery?

She stayed there for a few minutes, possibly talking to whoever was in that grave. Later, she put her finger under her eyes, so I assume she was wiping a tear off. She took another look at the grave, then she left. Out of curiosity, and after making sure she was really gone, I went over to the grave she visited – and I was shocked to see what was contained on the gravestone.

Frederick Gideon Weasley

April 1, 1978 – May 2, 1998

Son, brother, friend and lover. Joker before all else.

May he rest in peace.

Mudblood Granger was with Not-So-Funny Weasley? Which makes it safe to assume she wasn't a prude? Amazingly shocking revelations came one after the other now, huh? This calls for a drink.

I woke up the next day with a throbbing headache. I shouldn't have drunk so much last night. As I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, I remember. Waking up? The next day? Oh god. I stood up, and even though I was groggy, I didn't even care anymore. I walked up to my closet, and I picked the first thing I could find, practically slapped it onto myself, and sighed.

Did I really want to do this, or should I just escape while I had the chance? It was a choice, and I'm no good at making choices. I got out of my room in ten seconds flat and tried to make myself look decent with magic – while trying to look for a hangover potion while I'm at it. My head still hurts like bloody, sodding hell. I took a look at the clock. 9:35. Bullshit, I'm almost late.

"Norri!" I yelled, and with a pop, my house elf was in front of me. She was a delicate little thing; she was a replacement for Prongs after my dad killed him just before he himself died.

"M-m-master?" She says tentatively. She didn't seem to understand that I wouldn't kill her if she screwed up. I wasn't that kind of person was I?

"Norri, can you please get me a hangover potion, and a decent pair of shoes?" I said, trying not to scare the poor thing. I was actually sympathetic to house elves. They served us, did a pretty damn good job on it, so I don't really think it's fair to just treat them like dirt. Of course, father wouldn't understand that.

"R-r-right away sir." She said, disappearing once again, with another pop. I tried fixing my hair, the platinum blonde Malfoy trademark. I was quite proud of that. It was probably one of the only 'normal' Malfoy trademarks there was. A few seconds later, I hear another 'pop'. Norri was back with the potion and… well, for a house elf she did have a decent taste in shoes. I smiled.

"Thank you, Norri."

The house elf herself smiled back. "All the best for you today, young master."

And with that, I apparated to the Ministry.

I seem to have made it in one piece – thank God – to the Ministry, and found myself in the lobby. Long story short, I just avoided everyone and everything that I could avoid. It made things so much easier on my part, especially since… well, I just didn't want to talk to anyone; simple as that. Most people take it as me being snooty because of my last name.

Let's be honest. It isn't. There's a big difference between not wanting to talk to someone because you simply don't want to, and not talking to someone because there's nothing to talk about. While I myself am not into the idea of just shutting people out of my life – no man is an island, no matter how cheesy and overused that phrase is, it holds some water. I'm just that kind of person. I keep it real – especially now that I don't have to hide anymore. It feels liberating.

I made my way to the seventh floor, where Kingsley's office was. Granger was already there, when it occurred to me that not once in the two weeks we had, did we speak or plan anything out. That wasn't anything like Granger… wait, screw that. That wasn't anything like… me. She was wearing a pretty much plain dress, but it suited her. She looked good, even if that dress wasn't anything like what a Malfoy bride would wear.

I took a deep breathe and walked over to Kingsley's desk, where the piece of paper – to be politically correct, our marriage contracts – mocked me. Those shouldn't even exist. I start to wonder if I'm just piss drunk and if all of this was just a dream or if it was reality.

If it was, reality was for people who lacked imagination, ergo, it sucked.

"Well," Kingsley started. "Let's get this over with."

Granger paled, and she sighed. For the first time since I met her, I saw her looking… lost. Like she didn't have a plan and she didn't know what to do. She didn't look like the smartest witch of the century, she just looked like a little girl who was lost and was desperately trying to find her way home. I also saw fear in her eyes. Though I wasn't fond of her, I did feel a little sorry for her.

Unfortunately, I had a heart too, however mangled or… ice cold it was.

"Take her hand, Draco," Kingsley says, and so I did. He says a funny incantation, a spell I didn't recognize, then he pronounces us husband and wife.

"No vows?" Granger asked, looking surprised.

"You can't vow to love someone for the rest of your life," Kingsley said solemnly, "…and not mean it. This might be a marriage, Hermione, however, it'd be extremely inappropriate to make you both promise something that you won't be able to uphold."

I tried to protest. I tried to say that it was against tradition, but my words died in my throat. As much as I hate to admit it, Kingsley Shacklebolt was… he was right.