Hello, friends. I've been teasing this for a while, so here we are. It takes a village for me to finally post things, and my village was pretty spectacular with this project. So, all my thanks to msmerlin, mcal, quintalon, janasea, and dreamsofdramione on this one. I'm posting this really late, so if I have missed any crediting to the help I've had, I'll definitely fix it in the morning!

I plan on this being the only long author's note in the story. This story has no fixed length. I have an outline of major plot points to work my way to and from, but I am partially letting my imagination guide me because this is meant to be fun and not stressful. That being said, I've got a bulk written to keep a healthy head start. Updates will be around every ten days. As much as I would love to update weekly, it's not something I'm currently able to commit too. I hope you'll come along for the journey anyway though!

This is a marriage law entirely from Draco's POV. He's not the best narrator. Sometimes I want to choke him and I'm sure you will too. In this fic, they both start out in separate relationships. There is no infidelity, and these relationships end quickly. If you don't like marriage laws, or a Draco who has an abundance of flaws, this is probably not the fic for you. Hermione is not perfect either.

Also, I've got no intention of getting off the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-friends-lovers train any time soon. I hope you understand. Lol.

Draco's fingers slipped against the condensation of the glass, and he tipped the edge of the tumbler to his lips, draining the last swallow. From his seat at the counter, he watched Weasley and Potter serenade George with an absolutely terrible rendition of some Muggle song. They sang it every year, at every birthday, no matter who begged them not to.

Draco was the one who begged them not to. Yet, every June, he was subjected to a reminder that the pair was utterly tone deaf.

George seemed to like it, though, if the wide smile curving his lips was any indication. Flush from copious amounts of booze already, his booming laughter filled the room.

Draco shifted in his seat, his elbows propped against the counter and he pushed the now empty glass toward the bartender.

"You shouldn't drink so much." Theo's unwelcome opinion announced his arrival, and Draco turned to glare. "Unless, of course, you want Astoria to be angry, then you're doing a bang up job."

Just the name of his fiance made his head pound, and the firewhisky only made it worse. "Tori's always angry. Not like it matters how much I drink, I'm sure she'll be asleep when I get home anyway." With any luck.

He would have liked to blame Theo for the turn his life had taken—it had been his idea to settle down, to do the right thing by his family—but it wasn't as if Theo had forced a box into his hand with one of the most ostentatious rings in his vault. That credit actually belonged to his mother, and it had happened immediately after asking his parents for their opinion.

"She didn't want to come?" Theo's voice pulled him from his self-pitying thoughts. "You invited her, didn't you?"

"Of course I bloody invited her."

Potter's voice cracked behind him at the height of the song and Draco winced.

Another glass was pushed toward him, and he tipped it back. "I invite her to every event, but does she come? Of course she fucking doesn't, Theo." The path the firewhisky burned down his throat was barely noticeable now. "Where's Daphne?"

"She's visiting her parents tonight."

He made a non-committal sound and swallowed again. "It's a shame Tori didn't go with her."

"Is it?"

"We were supposed to see them last week but I came here instead for drinks with everyone," Draco muttered, his blood already rising. The weekly tradition had been in place for years, but it wasn't as if everyone could make it every week. Sometimes there were others missing, sometimes it was just him and two others. A week ago, it had been just him and Granger. She'd walked into the pub, seen him, and turned on her heel without ever speaking a word. He'd like to say it hadn't stung, but that would be a lie. He'd always looked forward to the weekly tradition when he wasn't away. "Astoria scheduled a formal dinner with her parents without consulting me first."

"So? They're going to be your in-laws—"

"No, you're not understanding. Tori made the plans knowing full well I was already busy. She did it on purpose, Theo."

"She just wants to spend time with you, mate. You're away so often for missions, and you work late nights. Can you fault her for that?"

Absolutely.

The relationship had never felt like much of one, even in the beginning. They had a decent time together, but that wasn't reason enough to marry her. "You see it differently than I do."

Theo tapped his fingers to the counter. "I think you're regretting the decision to marry her, and you've not done a good job concealing that."

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. "Father says it's cold feet."

"Yes, well, one doesn't typically have cold feet from the moment they decide to propose. For fuck's sake, Draco, you hadn't even done it yet, and your entire demeanor had already changed." He wasn't wrong.

God, it felt like the witch sucked the life out of him without doing anything truly wrong. "What would you have me do about it?"

"I'd say that you need to reconsider before you follow through with a ceremony that binds you to her permanently."

"I'll think about it."

"Harry!" A feminine laugh filled the pub, and Draco turned before he could think better of it. Granger threw her arms around his partner's neck, and squeezed until Potter patted her back.

George pointed towards himself. "You'll hug the Chosen One before you hug the birthday boy? I'm hurt, Hermione." He batted his eyes, and she laughed. Granger hugged him tightly, swaying with him as he swung her around.

While he'd watched that a bit more closely than he should have, Draco was more fixed on who Granger had brought with her. His mouth dried, and he reached to his side, fumbling to grab his glass of firewhisky.

Krum looped an arm around her waist, hand flattening against her stomach, and he pulled her back into his chest. He dipped his head, and whispered in her ear.

Her cheeks filled with colour, and she batted his wandering hand away with a laugh.

He thought he was going to be sick.

Nearing the counter with empty glasses, Potter looked at him, then followed his stare. Immediately, he appeared defensive, but he didn't say anything of the sort. "They reconnected recently when he came to England for a match."

"I told Daphne I would meet her at home." Theo pushed away from the counter. "Think about what I said, Draco. I'm serious."

"What was that about?" Harry waved down the bartender.

"Astoria."

He nodded. "Ah, the usual then?"

"You don't have to sound so fucking smug about it."

Potter flashed him a grin and shrugged. "It's not often that I'm right and you're wrong. I have to savor it."

"You're such a prick." Draco sighed. "Theo thinks I should consider breaking off the engagement."

"Sound advice, isn't it? You've been dreading the wedding even though it was your idea." Harry thanked the woman who slid the tray toward him. "Sorry, that sounded better in my head. What happened this time?"

He didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it made it all the more real. "She's furious that I came tonight rather than staying home. I invited her, but you can obviously see how that went." Astoria had been the subject of many conversations. "She loathes my friends, my career, and basically everything else that I happen to enjoy—"

Harry took a long drink from one of the glasses on the tray. "Do you think you could ever be happy with her?"

Draco's mouth snapped shut. "It's not as simple as being happy. I know you were raised by Muggles, but—"

Harry's eyes sharpened as he pinned Draco with a hard look. "Don't turn this into an insult about my childhood because you're lying to yourself about why you're getting married in the first place."

"It's what I'm supposed to do." Get married, have an heir. "It's just the way things are, Potter."

"Not anymore."

Draco dragged a hand down his face. "Alright, fine, maybe it's not the way it's always done anymore, but it's the way—"

"The Malfoys are." Potter arched a dark brow while taking another long swallow.

Behind Potter, he watched her from across the pub. He'd seen her with boyfriends before, and it shouldn't have been any different. Maybe it was the burn trailing down his throat that kept eyes glued to her.

Granger's head fell back as she laughed, and her fingers wrapped around Krum's forearm. As if that weren't enough, she leaned into him, tilted her head up to brush her lips against his, and—

Potter cleared his throat. "I'm going to pretend this isn't happening. You probably ought to do the same."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Even though his partner knew it was a lie, Harry didn't call him on it. Instead, he swallowed another drink, and nodded. "Right, of course you don't. If you decide to stop moping at the bar, come over."

"I'm not moping." When Potter stepped away, Draco was left with a full view of the scene and he couldn't seem to look away.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Long ago, in moments that felt like they belonged to someone else's life, that had been him in Krum's place. There had been plenty of stolen moments in alcoves after curfew, in the nooks of the library, in the girls' dormitory once he'd managed to get past the barrier spells. There'd been plenty of them all over the castle until he'd walked away.

Shaking the thought loose, Draco reached down to button the front of his suit, and nodded to the bartender as he took his glass with him. The loo was just beyond the couple, and he suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Draco thought he might vomit. There's nothing different about this time, he thought, but that was a lie.

The last time Granger had brought a date around him, he hadn't been engaged. Astoria had been in the picture, but only slightly. They had been orbiting each other through strategically arranged meetings his mother had arranged, but he hadn't been engaged. Her date, which hadn't lasted past that night, hadn't been serious.

And for the smallest window of time, it had been easy to pretend that he could cross a room to speak to her without the fear that she'd slap him.

It wasn't possible. This was the same woman who had walked out of the pub when she saw it was only him. Hermione Granger didn't want a fucking thing to do with him, and they both knew the only reason she didn't say as much was because of her two best friends.

Krum kissed her neck.

Through a veil of slurred thoughts, and stumbled steps, Draco could remember that it was the wrong spot. The right spot was just a bit lower, where her throat met her shoulder, and he could recall cupping the nape of her neck while his knee pressed between her thighs…

Draco meant to do it.

He just didn't mean for it to turn out how it did. There was a wrinkle in the rug draped across the floor, and while feigning to trip over it, the fact that he really was beyond fucking pissed made its ugly appearance. While he'd meant to dump his drink over Krum—and hopefully get his hands off of Granger—the tumbler had veered just so.

The apology was out of his mouth before he even recovered his balance. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. Granger, are you alright?" Draco's hand rose on its own, and he nearly made a fool of himself by reaching for her.

She glared at him, familiar flecks of gold catching under the shitty light of a dive bar. "What is wrong with you?" Her voice cracked through the air. It was slight, but her eyes watered a bit as she glanced down at herself. "I'm soaked."

Shite. "I'm sorry."

Ignoring him, and his flimsy attempt at an apology, Granger wrung her hair. "I'll just go home and change." She'd already turned towards Krum. "You can come with me if you'd like. I won't be very long."

Her date looped his arm around her waist, hand skimming up her side, and Draco watched, unable to turn away, as Krum's fingers skimmed the side of her breast. They made their way toward the public floo, but they weren't far enough that Draco couldn't hear when Krum suggested, "I could just help you out of your clothes."

His accent grated Draco's ears.

A weak, feminine giggle could still be heard. "And are you going to help me into more clothes?''

Draco didn't need to hear the response to that to know what it was.

Besides, the truth drove itself home hard when neither of them returned within the next hour. Potter glanced at him over the rims of his glasses, one dark brow arched. "Are you alright?"

Not even fucking close.

Draco swallowed, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. "Fine. I'm going to get home. Tori's probably wondering where I am." It was a lie, and both of them knew it. His fiance wasn't likely to be waiting up for him. "I'll see you in the morning."

Potter opened his mouth again, no doubt to continue his questioning, but Draco shook his head, and turned on his heel. He still heard his partner yelling after him as he threw open the door of the Leaky stepped into the cold January air.

The walk to the Apparition point gave him time to clear his head, and it might have worked if he hadn't drank so much. Too bad, considering he had done exactly that, and his headache had nothing to do with slinging back multiple drinks. With his hands tucked in his pockets, fingers curled around the thin profile of his wand, Draco vanished from the spot at the end of Diagon Alley.

Landing in the sitting room with the faint thud of his boots, Draco rolled his head from side to side as he glanced out the window.

"You're home late."

He tensed.

"The very least you could do is turn around when I talk to you."

Draco's headache doubled and he pinched the bridge of his nose when he turned to face her. "Are you happy now?"

Clad in a skimpy nightgown that should have enticed him, Astoria folded her arms over her chest. There really was no question whether the move had been deliberate in order to push her breasts up. He knew exactly how Astoria's mind worked. "No, I'm not."

Draco shrugged out of his coat, and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. "Imagine that," he muttered.

Apparently, it hadn't been concealed under his breath like he'd hoped.

"Are you drunk?" She stormed up to him, curling her fingers under his chin, and pressed her manicured nails into his cheeks. "Draco, it's after midnight!"

"Hadn't noticed. I told you to come with me, Tori. It was a party." Some of us had more fun than others, unfortunately. "What did you expect?"

"I thought you'd be home at a reasonable time!" she shrieked, and fuck, it hurt his head. "It's terrible enough that you're always home late due to something at work—"

Missions, she meant. Specifically the assignments that she believed he was always given. Merlin, Astoria would lose her fucking mind if she ever found out he'd been asking for the longest assignments, the ones that were as far away as he could go.

"But now it's—"

Normally he'd let her continue her vents—she was probably entitled to them anyway given what a shitty partner he was—but Draco rolled his eyes. That got her attention. "It was a friend's birthday."

"I wanted to spend time with you."

Draco snorted. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to do. "Shite, Tori—" It wasn't that he wanted to hurt her, not that it made him any better. Maybe Theo was right, but he was too pissed to think about that conversation now.

Her eyes watered. "Sleep on the sofa, Draco. Don't come to bed." Astoria shook her head, and left him to stare at the ceiling. "It's always something with you!"

Content to let her have the last word, Draco collapsed on the sofa without taking off his boots, and passed out within moments.

"What do you think of this, Draco?" Mother rose from her chair, and slid the invitation across the counter toward him.

Glancing downward, he thought it looked no better—or worse—than all of the others he'd been shown in the last week. "It's pretty. What does Tori think?" It seemed that his wife-to-be had already left their flat without speaking a word to him. That shouldn't have relieved him as much as it did.

"You scowl when you say her name."

He froze, tea sloshing from side to side as it stopped nearly at his lips. "What?"

His mother's eyes narrowed. "It's barely noticeable, but as your mother, I notice everything."

Draco sipped his tea, wincing as it scalded his tongue. "The invitations are fine, Mother. Whatever Tori wants."

"And what of what you want?"

Clearly, she wasn't talking about the invitations anymore.

Mercifully, the door opened and the familiar sound of heels clicking against the tile filled the air. Astoria stopped in the doorway, eyes widening slightly. "I didn't know you were coming over, Narcissa. I would have been here if I'd known."

The ridiculously high heel of his mother's shoe pressed into his toe—through the toe of his boots even—and cut off his voice.

"Oh, I was just showing Draco the invitations we settled on last week." His mother's eyes crinkled as she flashed what could almost be considered a genuine smile.

A trap. It'd been a trap to get him talking.

Draco took a long drink. "They're pretty."

Astoria wasn't pleased. A frown dragged down the edges of her lips, but she gave a stiff nod. "It's good that you're still home. I expected you to already be gone. It'll be better for you to take care of it."

Click. Click. Click.

She pressed an envelope into his chest, the paint on her nails shiny below the lights. "For some reason, one of our invitations was returned. Since the two of you work together, I assumed it would be no problem for you to drop it off."

After his drunken arrival home, Draco didn't argue with her. Clearly, he'd already been enough of an arse if the way she refused to meet his eye was anything to go by. "Of course. The DMLE is small enough—"

Astoria's lips pressed into a thin line. "Oh, no. It's not another auror."

He turned the invitation over, and his stomach dropped. With two sets of eyes on him, scrutinizing him—both for wildly different reasons—Draco forced a smile. He'd had enough practice doing it, and Astoria didn't seem to notice.

His mother, on the other hand, never missed anything.

It wasn't a far trip to the Department of Mysteries, and for reasons that were entirely his own, Draco was glad the two departments didn't overlap much. Very rarely did he have to descend to that floor, but it was just his ruddy luck that when he did have to go, it was for her.

Hermione fucking Granger.

Draco turned the parcel over again, his stomach hardening as his gaze swept over it. He'd drop it on her desk, mutter something she'd expect from him, and he'd leave. Simple enough, except he already knew that wasn't going to happen.

He'd put his foot in his mouth, and probably stick around to make sure he'd made an arse out of himself since that seemed to be his prerogative when it came to her.

The other option was to not deliver the invitation at all, and it grew more appealing with each floor he dropped. It wasn't as if he wanted to invite Granger to his wedding, but it would be an awkward snub if he didn't because he'd already invited Potter and Weasley. At least this way, she could say there was a prior engagement, and they could both pretend it wasn't because of the week before graduation.

But they both knew it was about that night.

It was a given. She still left any room if they were ever alone, and she always avoided sitting beside him. Or across from him.

Fuck, she drove him crazy.

The lift gave an awful creak.

Granger wouldn't show up anyway, he reassured himself. But what if she did? Wondering wouldn't get him anywhere, but the unwanted thought did bring up a rather good point. She'd bring a date, and the self-induced image of her attending with Krum left a bad taste in his mouth.

The doors began to open before the lift had completely stopped, and he considered continuing downward.

It was ridiculous. He'd drop off the envelope, maybe tell her to learn how to receive mail, and then he'd go back to the DMLE, where there was undoubtedly a case.

Maybe this would give him a chance to apologize properly after dumping firewhisky on her the weekend earlier. It would be a better talking point than insulting her ability to get her mail, anyway.

Granger's office was located at the farthest end of the corridor and his steps slowed as he neared it. Draco entered without knocking, certain she'd tell him to get out if he announced himself, but wasn't prepared to find her slumped over her desk.

She didn't raise her head at the sound of the door, but he could see her shoulders shaking. "Drop whatever it is on my desk and please leave."

It was an out. He could dump the wedding invitation on her desk and duck out without a word, without an awkward run in with his ex-girlfriend. For reasons unknown to him, though, Draco tucked the envelope into the back pocket of his trousers. "Granger…"

Her head snapped up, and she sat straight up, the sharp movement punctuated by her knee slamming into the underside of her desk. "Malfoy?" Granger wiped her eyes.

The sight of her face streaked with tears grappled something inside his chest, and he wished it was possible to step around the desk. Pull her against me—Draco cleared his throat with difficulty. "Are you alright?"

She sniffed. "No."

Right, it had been a ridiculous question, he supposed. "What's wrong?"

Wiping her eyes again, she shook her head. "I can't talk about it." While it was a step better than her telling him to just get the fuck out, it wasn't that much better.

He didn't understand right away. "I know there's not love lost between us, but if you're this upset—"

Granger laughed miserably. "No, I mean I can't talk about this." She waved her hand around her and it dawned on him. "There you go. I'd talk about this if I could, even if it was with you, but I've taken an oath as an Unspeakable."

He knew those contracts were ironclad.

"What brought you down here?"

Clearing his throat, Draco muttered, "Just needed to see someone else and I heard you crying." It was a flimsy lie. He knew she'd see right through it. "Take care of yourself, Granger. If there's anything I can do…"

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she ducked her head down. "Nothing you or anyone else can do. Please close the door on your way out."

Draco didn't breathe another word as the lock clicked, but he rested against the door. No doubt she could see the shadow of his body through the frosted glass window. After drawing several breaths, he set out to find Potter or Weasley.

Either of them would do. He kept repeating that to himself so he wouldn't camp out in her office until she talked to him.

It wasn't Draco's business anyway.

I would really love to hear what you think! I'm posting this at midnight because I like to wake up to reactions. I've never actually said that, but that's why they come so late my time! See you for chapter two next time!