"Harry? Ron?" Hermione called, as she stepped out of the fire in Grimmauld Place.

"Living room!"

She waved her wand to siphon off the dust from Floo travel, then pushed open the pocket doors.

"Well?" Ron asked from his place sprawled on the area run. Harry and Ginny likewise turned towards her with anxious faces.

"It was fine," Hermione said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from the other two.

"Who was your match?" Harry was looking at her intently from his seat.

"Um, well it was...Malfoy," Hermione replied, slightly mumbling.

"WHAT?!"

"Guys, it's really not-"

"First me and Parkinson and now this? What are those bloody idiots thinking," moaned Ron. "I mean are they trying to send us to early graves?"

Hermione made a face at the name. "Your match is Pansy?"

"Yes," he slurred. "Thanks why I'm slightly drunk and laying on the floor at two thirty in the afternoon."

The other three laughed for the first time in what seemed like years. "Oh, Ron," Hermione said, getting up to pour a glass of Firewhiskey herself. "And here I thought it was just a normal Tuesday."

"I resent that!"

Harry ignored Ron's continued grumbling and joined Hermione at the small bar they had set up. "How was it really," he asked, as she handed him a glass.

"Awful," she replied. "No...it was very strange. I can't really describe it."

"Was he horrible to you?"

"No...he was very polite actually. At this point, it just seems surreal," Hermione mused, sipping her drink. "How did you and Ginny make out?"

Harry smiled. "We're a match. So at least that's two out of us four. But you and Ron...I don't know how it is all going to work out."

"I tried to propose an alternate match," she said. "But Malfoy wouldn't hear of it, and since both parties have to approve, the official wouldn't put it to the committee."

"So that's why you're appointment took so much longer than ours, we were starting to get worried," he said.

"Yes," she grimaced, taking another sip. "He wasn't mean necessarily. But he refused. It was actually incredibly civil, well, except for the part where we started screaming at each other-"

"Rowing already?" Ron voiced from the rug. "You should have heard Parkinson in our meeting. Could have shattered all the windows in the Great Hall with her shrieks."

"Ron, how many glasses have you had now?" Ginny asked from the couch.

"Oh, lay off Gin. I'm engaged to a heartless harpy. This will probably be the happiest I'll be for a long time," he groaned, pulling a pillow off the couch to cover his face.

"I think we all deserve a drink today," Harry said, bringing a glass over to Ginny. "Let's raise a glass to those pricks at the ministry. It wasn't enough that we had to fight a war for them, but now they've mortgaged the happiness of our entire generation."

"Hip hip, hooray!" sang Ron from the floor as the rest drained their drinks.

The next day Hermione was in the library perusing research for her next book. They had stayed up late into the night drinking and reminiscing on their school days. As a result, the words were swimming on the page in front of her and she pushed them away with a frustrated sigh. What was the point of researching obscure magical creatures in China? She didn't see Malfoy being okay with his wife going off on solo trips for weeks on end.

"Pick your battles, Hermione," she muttered to herself and she stowed the scrolls away. Perhaps if she gave some ground on the wedding she could get him to agree to the research trip.

A tapping noise at the window interrupted her musings and she opened it to admit the large bird outside.

"Look at you," she marveled as she untied the scroll from the great grey owl's feet. "Not the run of the mill mail carrier, are you?"

The owl just glared balefully back at her with its big, yellow eyes. Hermione turned her attention to the scroll, which was closed with a crest stamped into green ink.

"Trust Malfoy to have an owl just as snooty as he is," she said, breaking the seal.

Granger,

As mentioned in our match appointment, I would like to set a time to discuss wedding details. It is if the utmost importance that we begin this process soon, can you meet at two o'clock tomorrow at the Willow & Wand? Matutina will await your answer.

-DM

"Damn," she sighed. Hermione had been banking on a few days to process their last meeting at the ministry before engaging in another battle of wills with Malfoy. The last encounter had left her reeling, particularly the information Malfoy had slipped regarding his sexual experience.

'Not likely' she thought to herself. And really, Malfoy a virgin? That couldn't possibly be what he was saying. What kind of red blooded, twenty three year old wizard wasn't actively trying to sleep with everything that moved? In fact, that was what had ultimately lead to the demise of her and Ron's relationship after the war.

The euphoria after the final battle had gone a long way in aiding the relationship.

She and Ron had fallen together in a heady whirlwind those months after the war. But the bloom had gone off the rose quickly and then they were often at each other's throats. Finally, after a year, Hermione had decided it was enough. They both wanted extremely different things and Ron agreed he wasn't ready to settle down.

In the four years after Ron, there had been a few men in her life and a couple of flings while on research trips. Hermione was a product of the modern Muggle era, both her parents being dentists, and she hadn't put much stock into remaining a virgin for her wedding day. She had thought dropping the bomb about her lack of virginity could persuade Malfoy to agree to an alternate match.

Apparently not.

"Are you going to wait here all day," she teased the owl. Matutina glared back. "Okay, okay," she said, grabbing some parchment. "I'm not trying to provoke your wrath."

Malfoy,

Tomorrow will be fine.

-HG

"There you go, you big bully," she said, tying the scroll to the owl's leg.

Hermione rose early to ready herself for her meeting with Malfoy. She had spent more time going over the documents from the ministry and the results were unsettling. A child would be required from the union in three years. The shock of the situation had made the details seem trivial, what could possible be worse than having to marry Malfoy? But this caveat was truly disconcerting.

A book in the Black library had also given her some incite into the three vows Malfoy had so condescendingly educated her on during their match appointment. This binding marriage had gone out of fashion about twenty years ago, but it had been a staple before that. The magical bond it created could not be dissolved through divorce, even if the parties chose to live separately.

To Hermione, these marriage rituals seemed straight out of the Muggle Victorian Age. Malfoy's behavior had also been very courtly and mannered, given their contentious past. If only there was a book somewhere about Pureblood etiquette she could read, but an exhaustive search of the library had yielded only the marriage vows tomb.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked in the kitchen as Hermione breezed in to make some tea.

"Meeting Malfoy for a late lunch," she replied.

"Will wonders never cease," he laughed mockingly.

"Not all of us can be as lucky in our fiancee as you are with Ginny," Hermione sighed. "Have you read the materials the ministry gave out?"

"I skimmed it," he said.

"A child in three years?" Hermione asked, sipping her tea. "Malfoy and I are going to have to do a lot more than just meet for lunch."

Harry grimaced. "I don't want to hear about the gory details with the ferret, Hermione," he groaned. "But yes, I did see that."

"The ministry is reaching its long fingers right into our bedrooms," Ginny said, walking into the kitchen. "They're trying to saddle us with kids as quickly as possible so we're too tired to protest this bullshit."

"I guess we should feel lucky that we have three years. And on that note, I'm off," Hermione said, disapparating with a crack.

She arrived to the restaurant a few minutes before two. It was located in an area of Diagon Alley that she didn't regularly frequent, characterized by higher end wizarding shops. In an effort to remain inconspicuous during the past years, she had avoided going out in public, especially places with crowds.

They all had leftover ticks from the war. For Harry it was nightmares, but Hermione's stemmed more from being on the run for almost a year and being attacked at every angle during the final battle. Crowds made her nervous, as they gave potential enemies cover.

Keeping a wary eye on her surroundings, Hermione entered the building and gave her name to the maître d. She was shown to a table at the back of the restaurant which was surrounded by ferns, giving the illusion of privacy. Malfoy stood as she approached.

"Thank you, Jean Paul," he said to the waiter. "We will start with the Grand Cru white."

"Very good, Monsieur Malfoy," the waiter replied and disappeared, leaving them alone.

"And thank you for coming, Granger," Malfoy said, crossing to pull out the other chair for her. "Please sit, we have much to discuss."

"Do we really need alcohol for this conversation?" she asked, sitting in the proffered seat.

"I feel a bit of social lubricant wouldn't go amiss here," he said, a slight smirk drawing the corners of his mouth up into an almost smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This is some pureblood etiquette thing, right Malfoy? You can't possibly believe that I would fall for this after you treated me like dirt on the bottom of your shoe for years," she sneered.

He sat back in his chair and regarded her with that carefully blank expression she had come to recognize as the 'Malfoy Mask'. "How much do you know about traditional courting in the wizarding world, Granger?" he asked evenly.

"Not a lot," she said begrudgingly. "There's a shocking dearth of information on the subject. I was able to find some on the Three Vows, but nothing on the lead up to the ceremony."

"Right. Well as you might have guessed, the upper echelon of pureblood society operates on a set of etiquette rules," he said. "Since we are now engaged, the rules dictate how society, and myself by extension, should treat you."

He poured her a glass of wine from the bottle that appeared on the table.

"So, the whole manners thing is all an act?" Hermione asked, lifting the glass to her lips.

"No," he replied. "You are now my fiancée and are entitled to receive a certain level of courtesy befitting that station."

"But I've seen purebloods be horrible to each other," Hermione protested.

"Yes, well isn't all fair in love and war?" He quipped.

"I don't think I would characterize their behavior as fair," she said, frowning. "People did inexcusable things in the war."

Malfoy grimaced and nodded to her point. "No, that was a regrettable comparison on my part. My apologies."

"So, because we're engaged, I'm somehow worthy of better treatment than I was when I walked into the ministry as plain old Hermione Granger two days ago?" She asked, shifting the subject away from the war.

"I'm hardly going to throw a tantrum over our match Granger," he said, sighing. "It would be futile as the ministry has already said the punishment for shirking one's appointed spouse is banishment," Malfoy sneered. "Besides, I've already explained to you to advantages of this match to my family."

"And you said there were things you wouldn't tell me! Are you more at liberty now to say what those things are?" She asked, raising her voice slightly.

At that moment the waiter interrupted them. "Are madame and monsieur ready to order?"

Hermione sat back in her chair while Malfoy ordered, slightly embarrassed at the scene she was making. Really, he was being perfectly civil about this whole thing when it could have been much more unpleasant. There was just something that wasn't sitting right with his act, but she couldn't put her finger on a specific that was tripping the alarms in her head.

After they both ordered, an uncomfortable silence descended on the table until he finally sighed and broke it.

"I didn't bring you here to fight, Granger. I know that you find this whole process terribly devoid of real feeling, but I was raised to expect an arranged marriage and I am just treating you the same way I was raised to treat any witch I was engaged to," he said.

She nodded. "It seems one of us has put their prejudices behind them."

"Let's move on to a more neutral topic. Have you given any thought to who you would like at the wedding ceremony?" Malfoy said, pouring them each more wine.

"I would like to keep it to family and close friends if we can," Hermione said. "The thought of a big society wedding isn't something I ever imagined for myself."

"At least on this topic we agree completely," said Malfoy, smiling lightly. "I will have to reign Mother in from what she was expecting, but I don't think it will be a problem. What do you say, fifty guests?"

Hermione grimaced. "I was hoping for smaller than that. But I supposed fifty or more will be unavoidable with our combined guest lists," she replied.

"Good, so that's settled. Have you given any thought to the venue?"

"Maybe something outdoors? I've always thought outdoor weddings were beautiful," Hermione said.

"My mother will appreciate the nod to tradition if we have the ceremony outside, sympathetic magic and all," he said.

They spent the rest of the meal making decisions on the reception and pre-wedding details. A simple announcement would be placed in the Prophet, but the wedding would remain open to close friends and family only. The reception would be held on the grounds of the Manor, much to Hermione's chagrin, but it was one of the only places they could ensure privacy. She would have final say over her dress and the guest list.

At the end of the meal, Malfoy rose to escort her to the apparition point. He didn't miss the way she looked over her shoulders furtively at passing groups, but politely did not comment. His parting words were in reference to their next meeting, where more wedding details would have to be ironed out. He wished her a pleasant afternoon and raised her hand, barely brushing his lips over the back in a gesture that sent chills up Hermione's spine.

The last thing she saw before disapparating was Malfoy regarding her with his masked expression. The touch hadn't affected him at all.

AN: There you go! Another chapter down, a little shorter this time, but I was having a hard time with my 'Draco'. He's a little too enigmatic, but he has his reasons!