Chapter 1

Hermione was staring at the screen, in complete shock. Draco Malfoy, as depicted on his profile, was grinning at her. There must have been something wrong with the algorithm, Hermione figured, how else could he be her perfect match?!

"Hermione, stop using that pomputer! We're late as it is already!" Ron called from below. They were at the Burrow where Arthur recently had had a computer installed for his own use. His children and his wife couldn't see the benefits but Hermione had promised to help him out a bit. "Coming, coming!" she yelled back, quickly erasing the history: this information was fit for no-one's eyes.

She had been a little restless, these last few months. Ron was out a lot, performing his work as an Auror and Hermione was often by herself. They hadn't been able to have children which had eventually led to Ron taking on even more cases, since he had the time, and to Hermione accepting a position at Hogwarts. Ron would stay with her if he was around the area, other times he stayed at their small flat. It was a good marriage mostly, but, lately they had gotten into a sort of rut. Hermione had created a dating profile, not to cheat, but just to look around, to daydream as it were. The website had promised her the perfect match and out of sheer curiosity she had filled in some information about herself, careful not to be too specific, and…. a match had appeared.

Draco Malfoy was staring out of the open window, smoking a good cigar. The wind was rushing the snow over the castle's grounds. The ice in the fjord attacked by the ne'er resting waves. Being a teacher was far more rewarding than he'd ever imagined as a student. Life was good. After some bumps in the road, he'd finally found his vocation. Here, his name would not be used against them. In fact, it was highly respected as was his family's history…

After a short career as a healer, or rather an apothecary, he had become a Potion's teacher. As an apothecary, he made many healing potions, but no-one entrusted the task to him. St. Mungo's eventually fired him as too many customers believed he would poison them and demanded a different healer to prepare their medicine. Draco's attempts at being accepted in the Wizarding world after the War fell flat. He became disheartened, but then an Owl arrived that changed his life forever. He was offered a position as a teacher, at Durmstrang! His parents, at the time still under house-arrest, advised him to go for it. The climate in Britain wasn't going to change any time soon and at this magical school he might have an actual chance at building his career.

That was five years ago. Draco had needed a bit of time to get used to the different climate, the long and dark winters were even worse than those is Scotland, but it had become a home away from home. Who knew? In time he might run Malfoy Manor, but for now, he was having a blast in the North. Notorious as the school may have been in the past, Durmstrang really wasn't all that different compared to Hogwarts. Muggle-borns were not allowed, but half-bloods were and so second generations were more than welcome. Draco had found out that it had more to do with a lack of basic magical knowledge than the pure-blood ideals the school had been accused of. As Durmstrang was a smaller school, with fewer teachers and resources, Muggle-borns would take too much time to train. Unlike Hogwarts, students only attended for four years and a basic, working knowledge of magic was assumed and required. This suited Draco fine. More than fine, as he could pick good and excellent students.

He had just heard great news of his Headmistress. Durmstrang had been elected to host the Triwizard Tournament and he would play a central role. Draco was more than content. This would be an great opportunity to showcase the school and its many talented students. Perhaps more British students would attend afterwards?

Minerva McGonagall was getting on. Seriously getting on, but she kept on going as best as she could. The idea of travelling far North to attend the Tournament was not that appealing, but she would do her duty, as she always had. Draco Malfoy, of all people, would be their liaison officer and their first meeting would be soon, very soon. She needed someone cool-headed, with not too many war-sentiments to assist her in this task. Leafing through her teacher files, her eyes lingered on Hermione. Would she be a good choice? She was hardly dispassionate, although generally pragmatic. Minerva closed her eyes. Would it be a disastrous choice or a great idea? She found it harder to know these things lately.

She addressed the portraits of Dumbledore and Snape. "What do the both of you think? She deserves an outing, at the very least, with everything she and Ron have been going through, these last few years…"

"I can't see Draco caring much for that," Snape sneered, "Granger and him hardly got on."

"Two excellent students having become teachers," Dumbledore smiled serenely. "More than we could have hoped for, especially the Malfoy boy."

"Severus," Minerva began cautiously, "I've often wondered if… If Draco's disapproval of her might not have been too firm? Almost like an act…. Though they were fierce competitors." She sighed.

"Competition is what the Triwizard Tournament is about," Dumbledore said, "In that light, it might be a sound decision."

"What are you implying, Minerva?" Severus smirked. "Are you a secret romantic at heart?"

"Not me, Severus," she firmly retorted, "But who is to say Malfoy isn't?"

"You're getting soft in your, ahem, autumn years," he sneered, "I'd never thought I'd see the day."

"Your final thoughts, Headmasters?" she spoke sternly. "An experiment to try out or to discard?"

"Shed it like snakeskin," Snape replied, as Dumbledore insisted: "Perfect pairing."

"I knew this would happen," Minerva mumbled. "I feared it. Problem is, I can see both your points…" She wearily closed her eyes.

Advice provided by former Headmasters was just as unclear as astrology, she'd found out over the years. Just as accurate and just as ambiguous, which was to say, utterly unreliable and incoherent.

"One wonders why one bothers," Phineas Nigellus said, smirking, clearly having overheard the entire conversation, voicing her very doubts.

"My thoughts exactly," both Minerva and Severus agreed simultaneously.