Most all characters belong to JK Rowling.

Note: Although the story isn't finished yet, I've been going through and reworking some of the earlier chapters so that I'm more satisfied with them and they flow better as a whole. I hope you enjoy any changes.

Draco Malfoy's life was perfect, or at least as perfect as he could have hoped for. He had recently turned nineteen, had a comfortable home (albeit he still lived with his parents), and was generally well liked by the female population. Considering the things he had been through, particularly in his 6th and 7th years at school, his life had turned out better than he had expected. After all, he had survived the war and he still had not only all of his original limbs, but he also still had his family and many of his friends.

So why then, if his life was so wonderful, did he sit, staring at the canopy of his bed feeling rather useless?

Draco turned over and looked out his window at the August sun peaking its rays over the horizon. Since the end of the war, he had felt that there was no real purpose to anything anymore. He wasn't fighting for anything. He was just existing, day to day, with no real goal to look forward to. He didn't need to work thanks to the large fortune his family had amassed, and therefore, had no job to occupy his thoughts.

Sometimes he would allow his old friend Pansy Parkinson to occupy his time in whatever way she pleased, but it wasn't as if he planned on marrying her. Perhaps, he thought to himself, the reason that he felt so overwhelmingly useless was the fact that he had never had, and most likely would never have, any true friends. It was a dismal thought.

At that moment, however, Draco was ripped from his reverie by the sound of a sharp knock on the front door of the manor that resounded through the whole house. He cringed. He knew exactly what type of knock it was. It's the sort of knock that only his Nanna Malfoy used, and Draco was not particularly fond of his Nanna.

Downstairs, he heard his mother and father answer the door as politely as they could manage. Draco smiled as their muffled voices echoed up to his room. His mother sounded less than pleased. If anyone disliked Nanna Malfoy's visits more than Draco, it was Narcissa.

Draco lazily got up and walked to his closet to put on some clothes. No doubt Nanna would not want to waste any time that could be spent telling Draco about all the nice pureblood girls that he should court. He was finishing buttoning up his shirt when he heard a great crash from the front hall. He quickly threw open his bedroom door and rushed downstairs to see what the raucous was.

Narcissa Malfoy stood facing Nanna with a look of absolute horror on her face. At her feet sat the remains of a vase that she had clearly just dropped. Lucius Malfoy was standing next to her with a matching expression of shock plastered on his hansom features.

"Oh, hello, Draco," Nanna grinned at him. The massive amounts of wrinkles around her face made her look like a rather frightening bulldog.

"Hey, Nanna," Draco said as he surveyed the scene, "What's going on?" Narcissa and Lucius slowly snapped from their rigid stances and tried to compose themselves.

"Hey is for horses, Draco," Nanna waggled one wrinkled finger in his face, "I've just come to tell you all about the wonderful girl that you're going to marry." Draco smirked.

"I'm not marrying anyone, Nanna," he said. But Nanna only smiled wider.

"Oh, but you are, Draco," her eyes seemed to bulge from her head for all her excitement, "You've been betrothed." Draco felt his own face form into the same dumbfounded shock that his parents had worn just minutes ago.

"Nanna, I'm not marrying anyone," Draco repeated.

"I think you'll find her quite pleasing, Draco," Nanna ignored him, "She's pureblood, and not too bad looking from the pictures I've seen."

"You haven't even met her?" Narcissa all but shrieked, "My son! My only son is not going to marry a complete stranger! I won't stand for it." Nanna's smile widened even more, stretching her wrinkles in a very strange way.

"I think you'll find your opinion of that very different seeing as the girl and her grandmother will be here any moment," Nanna said triumphantly.

What felt like nearly a whole world away, although it was really across a small stretch of water and half a country, Ellie Bardot sat stock still on her kitchen floor where her grandmother was delivering the same terrible news. It was her eighteenth birthday, and her grandmother was ruining it.

"Oh, get up, Eleanor," the old woman heaved at the girls arm. But, Ellie stayed on the floor and didn't move. She knew it was immature, but it was the only way she could think to deal with the present situation.

"Margret, make your daughter get up!" But Margret Bardot stood on the other side of the kitchen looking just as helpless as Ellie felt.

"I'm not getting up, Mamie," Ellie said into her knees, "And I'm not going to marry anyone." The old woman looked anything but convinced.

"You may say that now, Eleanor, but I think you'll soon see things differently. Now get up before I force you up." But Ellie stayed exactly where she was and showed no signs of movement.

"Fine then," Mamie said. And without another word she grabbed Ellie's arm tightly and turned on the spot. After several moments of discomfort, during which Ellie thought her lungs might collapse, she took in a deep breath of fresh country air. She was sitting in the middle of a dirt road with great fields on either side.

"Get up, Eleanor," Mamie said sternly.

"No, I'm not going," Ellie said as she made to lie back on the ground.

"Oh, you'll go, whether you like it or not," Mamie said viciously, "You're going to marry a pureblood. I won't have you soil your family's good name, not like your good for nothing sister." And with strength that should not have been possessed by such a frail old woman, Mamie yanked Ellie up off the ground and began to pull her down the dirt road.

Ellie frowned, but walked sluggishly behind her grandmother. Not only was she still wearing her nightgown, she was also wearing a pair of rather ridiculous slippers. She didn't have her wand either, so there was no chance of escape as far as she could tell.

Finally, Mamie stopped in front of a massive gate that led up to an enormous mansion. The gate opened of its own accord, and as they walked up the path, Ellie saw beautiful albino peacocks strutting across the front lawn. She couldn't help but snort at them in disgust. Whoever lived here must be full of themselves.

"Don't embarrass me, Eleanor, or there'll be hell to pay," Mamie said as she rung the front bell. It swung open immediately and standing in front of Ellie was a tall, pale young man with silvery blonde hair. Although he was dressed, he had the distinctly disheveled look of someone who had just woken up. Ellie met his eyes and felt a shiver go down her spine. There was a decided coldness behind his eyes that scared her. Then his face gave way to a smirk as he surveyed her.

"What?" She asked indignantly, earning her an elbow from Mamie.

"You're wearing pajamas," he said simply.