Hermione stood in front of her fireplace, adrenaline coursing through her veins like liquid fire. She didn't know how to feel, in all honesty. The young witch knew that walking into the Ministry was going to be a hellish experience, no matter what she did to prepare herself. She needed to gather all her Gryffindor courage and step through the Floo.

Her Monday had been a whirlwind of emotional exhaustion and mental trepidation. After her discussion with Draco, she had returned to her own flat to sort through her enormous pile of awaiting mail. She had immediately thrown a stack of Howlers into the blazes of her fireplace's inferno. Other letters had been filed away under media requests and other assorted categories. The threats were placed in a pile that she could deliver to Harry and the DMLE. Letters from her friends and peers were kept separate.

A few notes were encouraging about the whole situation, like the kind note she had received from Tonks. Others had been a bit more harsh, which had made Hermione even more on edge. She had yet to hear from any of the Weasleys or Harry, but Dromeda had sent her regards.

Her breakfast with Draco had been the real turn in her day, surprisingly enough. What had shocked her was the fact that Draco could actually cook. And he cooked well. Apparently he had taken an interest in the subject when he had moved out of the Manor, and no longer had house elves to prepare his meals. He had started with wizarding cookbooks, and eventually had gathered a few traditional recipes to make for himself.

"I learned that it's a lot like making Potions. Follow the directions correctly and you get the desired outcome." He had told her the morning before. Hermione had been taken aback by how truly delicious the goat cheese and spinach omelet he had prepared her had tasted. Maybe one day she could convince the Pureblood heir to take a look at a traditional Muggle cookbook.

Hermione knew that entering the Ministry was going to be painful, but she was going to be late if she did not leave soon. Readjusting the plum colored robe and suit dress set that she had decided to dress herself in for the day, Hermione withdrew a handful of Floo powder before stepping into her fireplace.

Arriving at the Ministry, Hermione entered the Atrium with a pitted feeling in her stomach. Instantly she could feel the gazes of her colleagues on her. She kept her chocolate eyes trained to the floor, avoiding what she felt to be scathing glances of disapproval. She walked as quickly as she could towards the elevator, but her hearing was adept at catching the whispers that surrounded her.

"Brightest witch of our age, alright. Her brain must be a load of rubbish. Marrying a sodding Death Eater." Hermione caught one individual comment.

"What a waste of talent. Marrying for money, I suppose. Or status. I guess being Muggle-born isn't as glamorous as it seems." That comment left a sour taste in Hermione's mouth, noting the dig at her birth status.

"I don't even know what Draco Malfoy sees in her. She's so plain." Hermione kept her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as she crossed the Atrium floor. She was halfway there.

"What a sellout. Or a slut. Either way, she's a disgrace to her own name. Marrying a former Death Eater. Such a waste of good magic." That comment is what brought tears to Hermione's eyes as she finally reached one of the Ministry's elevators. It was empty, thankfully.

With an unsteady hand, Hermione finally looked up as she awaited for the elevator to arrive at the DMLE. She carefully wiped the tears forming in the corner of her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. Her heart and stomach were now in her ankles. She had known that it was going to be bad. People were going to speculate and judge, gossip and point. But nothing had prepared her for such utter brutalness.

When the elevator arrived at its designated destination, the door opened to reveal Henrietta, who seemed to be specifically waiting for Hermione. Locking eyes with her supervisor, Hermione gave her a weak smile.

"Good morning, Hermione. May we speak in my office for a few moments?" Henrietta was cordial but firm, and Hermione nodded, stepping off the elevator to follow. Both women made their way to Henrietta's office, seating themselves properly in the assigned chairs before Henrietta closed the door with a wave of her hand.

Hermione was nervous. She knew that calling out yesterday had been a bad idea, but she had needed the time to process her own emotions. Maybe this was about something entirely different, but the young witch doubted it. Hermione twisted her hands in anticipation, awaiting her fate.

"I know that you're probably nervous about why I've asked to speak with you, but I can assure you that you are not in trouble." Henrietta clarified her need for a talk first and foremost, which raised a massive weight from Hermione's already sagging shoulders.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you for letting me know." Hermione responded, not realizing that she had released a bated breath.

"I mainly just wanted to discuss how you're doing, personally. I know that something big in your life had just occurred, and you needed some personal time yesterday. Which is perfectly alright. But I just wanted to check in." Henrietta's eyes were caring as she asked her questions, and Hermione felt herself trying not to let the crashing wave of emotions she was feeling overwhelm her.

"I appreciate your concern, and I am very thankful for you letting me take yesterday off. While my personal situation is not completely resolved, I am working on it." Hermione quickly replied, deciding not to go into detail on the matter.

"Okay then. That is all I needed to know. Best wishes on your engagement, by the way." Henrietta offered her congratulations. Hermione nodded, before accepting graciously.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I will be sending my RSVP by the end of the day, of course. It's a bit of a squeeze in scheduling, but Nigel and I will be attendance." Henrietta mentioned, and Hermione gave her a look of confusion, having no idea about what the woman in front of her was speaking of. Her face obviously was showing signs of confuddlement, which prompted Henrietta to remove a piece of heavy parchment from the drawer of her desk.

"I received the invitation for your engagement ball this morning. I thought you were aware of them being sent out." The elder witch offered Hermione the glimmering paper, which she took with a timid hand.

Looking down, Hermione was greeted with the sight of a stunning piece of stationary. Heavy pressed parchment inlaid with silver filigree work, with infinitely delicate script greeted her. It was like molten silver had been poured onto the paper. She read the words with hungry eyes.

Mr. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Mrs. Narcissa Cyllene Malfoy

Cordially Invite You to an

Engagement Ball

Celebrating the Engagement of

Draco Lucius Malfoy

Hermione Jean Granger

This Saturday, October 15th

6 pm

Malfoy Manor

Wiltshire, England

White Tie

Hermione took in the intricate calligraphy of the invitation with a scrutinizing eye. Draco had warned her that there was a possibility that Narcissa would be hurrying things along to avoid scandal, and he had been right. Everything was happening so rapidly that Hermione felt like she was locked in an inescapable cyclone. But she had to put on a brave face. This had been her decision, and now she had to deal with its outcome.

"I was, but Mrs. Malfoy was a bit ahead of schedule. I'm just a bit surprised at her haste, that's all." Hermione brushed off the question, handing Henrietta back the invitation. Hermione's boss nodded, taking back the piece of paper.

"Well, if that's all, I should probably get to work. Thank you for your concern, Henrietta. I appreciate it." Hermione spoke, wanting to rush the conversation along and get back to her job.

"No problem. Gorgeous ring, by the way. Mr. Malfoy did well." Henrietta pointed out Hermione's engagement ring with a smile. The young witch had forgotten she was even wearing it. She had not taken it off since Sunday morning. It just felt so natural to be wearing it that it had completely slipped her mind.

"Thank you. And yes, he did." Hermione agreed, before getting up from the chair where she was seated. Henrietta gave her a small smile as Hermione exited her office. Closing the door, Hermione took a deep breath.

Just get through the day. Hermione thought to herself as walked to her own cubicle. Matthew and Amelia had yet to arrive, thankfully. That meant she could decompress for a few moments before dealing with her colleagues.

Hermione also realized something else that she had noticed on the invasion. It had mentioned the event being white tie, which made the young witch want to keel over. She hated formal events, and shopping for formalwear even more. A new dress would have to be purchased.

Sighing, Hermione placed her head on her desk.

She was so over this, and it had only just begun.

—00000—

Draco observed the metallic invitation in his hand with an unimpressed smirk. Once again, Narcissa Malfoy had made the impossible quite possible. The invitations for Hermione and Draco's engagement ball had arrived bright and early on Draco's window ledge, with a quick note from his mother attached. She was reminding him to get his formal dress robes pressed and re-tailored if necessary.

Narcissa had probably paid a ghastly amount to get the invitations to a printer on time. But when his mother was determined to do something, it was going to be done. It was an admirable quirk of his mother's, if Draco had anything to say about it. But he was also smart, so he never did.

Many arrangements had already been made, as his mother had also informed him in her note. The flowers had been ordered and the catering arranged. Narcissa's favorite string quartet had made themselves available. Everything needed to make the engagement party of the century was in place.

But Draco knew from looking at the invitation in his hand that something was going to be an issue. While the youngest Malfoy had been raised attending white tie events, a certain Gryffindor had not. Draco knew Hermione was going to struggle dressing herself for such an event, so he had done what he thought any responsible fiance would do. He had called in the best witch for the job.

If anyone knew the heights of Pureblood womens fashions, it was the black haired heiress lounging on Draco's couch. Pansy Parkinson had always been an expert at dressing herself and others, and had been known to style many a Slytherin girl for Hogwarts formal events. Daphne had called her a saving grace on more than once occasion. And now Draco was in dire need of her skills.

Taking one last look at the paper in his hands, Draco decided that it was time to get to work. Pansy had arrived with a rack of possible options for Draco to give Hermione, but he knew he would need help ironing out the details.

"Are you ready yet?" Pansy asked, absentmindedly playing with the belt of her soft linen pants. Draco cleared his throat, and motioned for Pansy to begin her presentation. Removing herself from the couch, Pansy approached the rack of clothing that had been set up in Draco's living room. It was teeming with assorted dresses of every style.

"Yes. Show me what you've got, Parkinson." Draco took a seat in his favorite leather chair. Pansy removed the first dress from the selections, holding it up for Draco's inspection.

Almost immediately Draco knew that the gown was a no. While the cornflower blue coloring was alright, the overly puffed skirt was a definite no. Draco shook his head in dismissal, and Pansy moved on to the next dress.

The same pattern occurred each time the witch held up a dress for Draco's opinion. Nothing seemed appropriate enough for Hermione Granger to wear. Either the dresses were too low cut, the color was wrong, or the style was too dated. Pansy seemed to become increasingly annoyed at each dress he shot down, but Draco was determined to make the right decision.

It wasn't until Pansy pulled down one of the last gowns from her expansive rack that Draco was finally intrigued. The light purple color held twinges of blue, but wasn't quite as light as lavender. Thin straps held the dress up, and the bodice was structured with what Pansy called 'princess seams'. The neckline was modest enough, and the skirt flared from the hips before falling to the ground in waves of brushed satin. It was understated, but still elegant. Draco knew Hermione would approve.

"I think that's the one. The color is right." Draco decided. For some reason, picturing the shade of the dress on Granger just seemed to fit. The youngest Malfoy couldn't place the feeling, but it was there.

"I thought you might go with this one. Of course the color is right. She's worn it before." Pansy remarked as she began to place Draco's selection into a box. Malfoy gave her a confused look, confused by his friend's reference. Pansy shook her head before explaining her comment.

"Granger's Yule Ball dress was this exact color. That's why I chose it, because I knew she looked good. Good enough that it pissed me off for weeks afterward. You seriously don't remember? You ranted all night about how Granger didn't have the right to look like she did." Pansy reminded Draco of the events that had taken place during their fourth year at Hogwarts. He had almost completely forgotten about the Yule Ball. Pansy had been his date, and he could remember her complaining about how Granger was being escorted by Viktor Krum.

"I didn't complain about how Granger looked." Draco countered. He had no recollection about making comments about Hermione's appearance at the Yule Ball. Though he did remember quite jealous of the attention Potter was receiving.

"You droned on for hours. I nearly stabbed myself in the eye with my butter knife." Pansy laughed at the memory.

"Well, please don't do that at my engagement ball. Mother would be horrified."

"Don't worry. I would never do anything to embarrass Narcissa. But please, make sure that Granger gets this as soon as possible. I've included evening gloves that match, but she'll have to find shoes." Pansy handed over a perfectly wrapped parcel to Draco, who gave his friend an appreciative grin.

"Thank you, Pans. This means a lot."

"No problem. But please, promise me one thing." Pansy asked as she quickly shrunk down the remaining dresses and rack to fit in her handbag. Draco looked at her expectantly.

"Don't screw this up, okay?"

"I won't, Parkinson, I promise."

—00000—

When Hermione arrived back at her flat after work, she was exhausted. The day had been longer and more miserable than she ever could have imagined. People had stared and whispered all day, not being subtle at all. They pointed with hushed tones at her engagement ring, with snide faces and unimpressed stares. Hermione had eaten lunch alone in her cubicle to avoid the stress.

Amelia had tried cheering her up by inviting her for lunch, but Hermione had graciously declined. All she wanted was to finish her work and head home. Even her own colleagues seemed weary of her newly announced nuptials. Members of the DMLE had been skittish around her, avoiding directly dropping off paperwork for her, and having Matthew or Amelia deliver it instead. It was almost nauseating at the sheer disrespect Hermione was receiving. Now it was evening, and Hermione had survived the day from hell. All she wanted was a good cup of tea and to watch some unassuming Muggle television.

She quickly fixed herself a strong cup of herbal tea, and decided to check her window for any mail she may have received. Once again, piles of letters filled the sill. Hermione noticed a piece of shimmering parchment that must have been her engagement ball invitation, but it was the giant black box decked with an emerald colored ribbon that caught her eyes. Grabbing the package, Hermione placed it on her coffee table to open it.

Unfurling the satin ribbon, she lifted the lid. Nestled in the tissue paper was a note, which Hermione read, her eyes wide in surprise.

Hermione,

Enclosed in this box is something that I believe you might need for our event this weekend. I figured you would like some of the challenges removed for preparing for such an event, and as your fiance, that duty falls to me. I hope this finds you well. Pansy said the color would suit you. She also included gloves, which you will most definitely need.

Enjoy.

D. Malfoy

Removing the tissue paper, Hermione revealed the stunning gown that was enclosed. The style was everything that she would have selected for herself, and the young witch was mesmerized by the color.

Periwinkle.

How Draco Malfoy had coerced Pansy Parkinson to select a dress for her, Hermione would never know. But to her utter astonishment, it really was perfect. Placing the dress back into its packaging, Hermione felt like she had to tell someone about this. Looking around, she spotted her landline sitting on her desk. She knew that Harry had installed one at Grimmauld Place, and Ginny was going to have a fit when Hermione told her what Malfoy had done.

Picking up the phone, Hermione dialed the familiar number. While the dial tone rang, the young witch couldn't help but realize that for the first time that day, she felt happy. And all because of a certain platinum blond man.

A voice answered on the other line.

"Hello?" Ginny picked up.

"Oh Gin, you're never going to believe what just happened…"