Author's Note: Although my updates will normally be pretty short, I'm going to try to keep them coming regularly so you won't have to wait long for the next bit.

Chapter Two

Dear Draca,

Your father and I have arranged a meeting with The Notts this coming Saturday to discuss the prospect of a possible match between yourself and Theodore. As you know, the Notts come from a long line of pureblooded aristocrats, and a match with their oldest son Theodore would not only be a connection of convenience, due to the immediacy with which it could take place, since, as I understand it, Theodore is already of age, but also a connection that befits your heritage. Please take care to treat Theodore Nott with the utmost care and consideration. If all goes well on Saturday, a marital contract will promptly be signed, and a marriage will be awaiting only your's and Theodore's graduation.

Your Mother,

Narcissa Malfoy

Anger swelled in Draca's chest as she read the letter from her mother.

Why must her mother always treat her as if she were no more than a pawn in these ridiculous elitist pureblood games? Didn't her mother realize that her daughter had an opinion too; a heart, feelings, a want to be loved for more than just the connection her family name could offer. The sad thing was that Narcissa probably didn't know. Draca's grandmother had most likely subjected her own daughter to the same treatment that Draca was now receiving. The same royal pureblood treatment that every girl her age was subjected to and suffered through. Draca had just hoped that she could have something more for herself. She had always dreamed of finding her one and only true love. The one man that could love her no matter what. She had always wanted the fairytale, the romance, not some cold contractual agreement arranged by her mother, and enforced by years of tradition and nonsense.

But unfortunately, if her mother, like so many other pureblood mothers, had her way, that's not what Draca would get. A Malfoy daughter would get only what was dictated by societal obligation. The cold, dead, iron grip of an unhappy and unloving marriage, where love was not something made, but forced.

Draca wadded the letter and threw it in the bin where it belonged.

Good riddance to all of it.

To the letter, to tradition, to obligation, and most of all to her parent's plans of a prearranged marriage to Theodore bloody Nott.

Draca would fight this for all that she was worth.

Quickly, and before she could rethink it, she grabbed a quill and scratched out a note to her mother.

Mother,

Thank you for your kind consideration. Theodore Nott would indeed be a good match for the Malfoy family. However, I believe I have found one better suited to me.

Your Daughter,

Draca Malfoy

She quickly sealed the letter, attached it to the leg of the Eagle owl that had delivered her mother's letter, and sent the owl on its way.

Now all Draca had to do was find a person willing to play the part of her lover and her plan, to avoid all things Theodore Nott, would be underway.

"What are you so interested in, mate?"

Herman snapped his eyes back to his plate and shrugged his shoulder in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. "Nothing. Just…er…checking to see if the Slytherins had more eggs than us. You know, it isn't…uh…fair. If they did, I mean."

Ron rolled his eyes and continued scarffing down his plateful of breakfast meats. " 'ur a wacko." He managed to get around a particularly large mouthful of food.

Harry chortled and glanced over at the Slytherin table. "Doesn't look like they have more…er…eggs than us. Although who could really say for sure. However, I do notice that a particular blonde happens to be sitting directly in front of the Slytherin's plate of eggs."

Herman picked up his buttered toast and tossed it at Harry's head. "Can you just drop it? Why would I be looking at her? She hates me."

"I don't know, Herman. Why don't you tell us? You're always looking at her." Harry said, peeling the piece of toast off of his forehead. "Ewww. Look at this! Now I have butter in my fringe!"

Ron started laughing so hard he began choking on his bacon, and Herman had to reach across the table and pound him on the back.

"Merlin, Ron!" Harry said, helping Herman to Heimlich their best friend. "Take it easy!"

"Butter…in…fringe!" Ron grabbed his side and lurched backward off the bench and into a first year Hufflepuff, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Author's Note: Please review. Criticism is always welcome. Feel free to correct any mistakes.