Deep in the lush scenery of Wiltshire, small villages enjoy the pleasant silence nature envelopes them. Birds coo sweetly as the sun rises in the morning, and owls hoot softly long after the sun sets in the evening. The air surrounding Wiltshire carries in it all the noises found in the English countryside, and it carries magic. A deep hum of energy claims the city. Little do the Muggles there know, hidden just behind one of those small villages a protection spell shielded from them a world quite unlike any other.

Draco tilted back his now empty glass. A small drop of firewhiskey slid down towards the rim, but Draco looked past it. Through the the thick glass cylinder he could see a blurred view of the scenery that greeted him from the floor-length window on one side of his newly renovated home office. The stone triangle roofs of the nearest village were nearly visible past the foliage of the estate gardens. Draco angled his glass back into it's proper position before the amber drop could fall, but his gaze stayed trained on the view. Most all of his adolescent years were spent here at his parents' estate, and never once had he been struck by the curiosity to visit the small little village his estate neighbored. Strange that now he felt the compulsion to do just that. To do anything, really - anything besides paying mind to the letter he'd dropped so carelessly on his desk in favor of the now empty firewhiskey glass.

It would seem that news of his latest Procuration Contract had reached the ears of his parents, and it would be likewise sufficient to say that they were not in the least bit pleased. Seven years he'd been free of them, and even still they found some means by which to administer their disapproval. His parents' constant criticism is a burden he must carry and had been carrying his whole life. After the battle that defined his last year at Hogwarts, Narcissa and Lucius thought it best for their family to retire from the public eye. The years immediately after the war represented a period of readjustment. Everyone felt it, even those not directly involved, but the Malfoy family suffered the deepest blow. Lucius had driven their family and legacy to destruction. Once free of Voldemort's influence, Narcissa turned on Lucius. She left him and Draco, and checked herself into St. Mungo's. The war had broken her down in many ways. Between the connections of her sister and husband, her involvement in the war wasn't voluntary. With Voldemort dead, she claimed her own independence.

Men of the Malfoy lineage were not breed to handle defeat, and so Lucius dealt poorly with his political downfall after the death of Voldemort and his marital defeat regarding the poor health of his wife. As means of penetance, Lucius volunteered to serve five years in Azkaban: two years of punishment for his transgressions, two years in assuming the punishment for Narcissa's transgressions, and one year for Draco's involvement. The Ministry of Magic attempted to handle matters with the highest sense of mercy, as though making up for previous mistakes. Harry Potter assumed an active role in identifying the Death Eaters truly loyal to Voldemort's cause and separating them from the threatened into involvement. Many witnesses affirmed that the Malfoy family was seen turning away from Voldemort at the conclusion of the final battle, and Harry Potter spoke of Narcissa's deceiving Voldemort into believing Harry was dead. The action had not been lost on the jury, and their sentences had been reduced.

During the period of reconstruction occurring both in his family and across the Wizarding World, Draco was left to serve his own time tending to the responsibilities as head of the Malfoy household. He built the family legacy up from the ashes it was withering away in. Wizards everywhere wanted nothing more than to forget about the war and those lost to it, so Draco monopolized on the mentality. He invested the majority of his personal funds into reorganizing all of the professional Quidditch teams. Public feedback exceeded their expectations. The resurrection of a game so near and dear to all Wizards' hearts slowly begun to dissipate the strife between families, old friends, and neighbors. Within five years following the end of his term at Hogwarts, Draco had nearly doubled his family's existing fortune. It was at the conclusion of the fifth anniversary of the date, that the Ministry of Magic suggested Procuration Contracts as a means of "ensuring the survival of the Magical race." They couldn't very well have named the bill "It Doesn't Matter Who You Make Babies With, We Just Need More Babies," but that was the jist of the new law. Well, that was Draco's view of it, at least. So he signed a few Procuration Contracts with women who refused to sleep with him if he didn't, but he never agreed to kids. That would be the day.

After Lucius was released from Azkaban, he travelled directly to St. Mungo's to see Narcissa. Time apart had reminded them of their commitment to each other, and how they each had failed to fulfill their vows in their own ways. Renewed with a joined purpose, Draco's parents did the unthinkable: they got remarried. At a time when society shunned marriage in favor of promoting legalized promiscuity, Lucius and Narcissa effectively committed social suicide. Draco advised them to remove themselves from the public eye and retire peacefully at one of the now many Malfoy properties. The letter on Draco's desk was just one of the occasional pieces of evidence that Lucius still had trouble disconnecting himself from the administrative responsibilities of his son's life.

Draco placed his glass down beside the green sealed letter on his desk. He'd been avoiding the confrontation long enough. After a slight pause one slender white hand moved from the elegant curve of the glass to the thin leaf of paper.

"By Merlin, I hope they are decent enough for company at the very least," Draco muttered as he reached for his wand. Something about his parents' second marriage made them entirely too fond of public displays of affection - yet another reason why Draco suggested they go away for some time. Just as well, the time had come for a reunion. Wand firmly in one hand and letter in the other, Draco uttered one last indecency before disapparating from his office.

Draco's meeting with his parents lasted no longer than a strict fifteen minutes, precisely enough time to to indulge in the pleasantry of a fresh cup of tea and create an excuse to leave just as the topic of his latest Contract was called to attention. Once back at the Manor, he settled into his nightly routine. The room was pitch black save for the scant light emitted from the glowing embers in the stone fireplace.

"Draco, deary?" A ray of fluorescence fell across Draco's figure, where he lounged in an armchair chair angled away from the fireplace. A dark-skinned witch walked in through the door she'd opened. Draco raised his arm, firewhiskey in hand, to shield against the sudden light, and the exotic women turned to close the door behind her. She was beautiful, and there were certain alluring characteristic to the way she held herself. Maybe it was just the five inch heels she wore, or maybe it was the tiny dress that hugged her body. She would suffice for his purpose with her. They had only just signed the Contract that morning. No one had seen her yet, but Draco was planning to change that as soon as possible. Tomorrow, he thought, after she has adjusted to the house, I'll take her out on the town, and show her off. That will certainly get his name in the paper for this month.

"Are you ready for bed?" she questioned. She stood in front of the bed, running her hands over the green, silk sheets in what should have been a seductive gesture, but Draco had seen it enough times for it to lose effect. If only she knew, he though in apathetic amusement, of all the women who have done the same thing in that same bed over the last two years.

"Best get it over with" Draco quipped, pulling himself up from his chair and making a mental note to have his elves change his sheets the next morning. Green was no longer his favorite color, and he wanted it removed from his bed. The past few years had changed him. He was no longer the juvenile Slytherin Prince; that boy had finally grown up.

-o-o-

"ABSOLUTELY PREPOSTEROUS!" The frizzy haired witch cried, crumpling up the newspaper she had been reading. She threw the paper ball at the wall of her hotel room in Diagon Alley, and it bounced off to where it landed on her bed next to where she sat. The exasperated witch let out a frustrated breath and fell back onto her bed, trying to prevent tears from pooling in her eyes. All those years of hard work. All those hours of pouring herself over books in the library. All those Saturdays spent studying instead of watching Quidditch matches. All those holidays spent at Hogwarts, working toward her well-earned academic excellence. All of that for nothing.

The bold headlines of the newspaper still shown behind her eyes. A tear fell as she watched the words ingrain themselves in her mind: "WITCHES: THE NEW SPRING TREND!"

After the conclusion of the war, Hermione spent a year reconnecting ties with her parents. Once her personal matters were settled, she returned to the wizarding world to take up a previous job offer as a Curse-Breaker for the Ministry of Magic. Six years she spent channeling all her energy into climbing the hierarchical company ladder. A week ago she'd receive an offer for a promotion, the opportunity to be trained as lead Curse-Breaker for the whole branch of operations. After much deliberation, she'd gone into the office this morning to accept the offer, only to find that it had been recalled, and she was under investigation for disobedience of their latest law. All witches were to be involved in a Procuration Contract with a wizard to ensure the continuation of their race.

Hermione was given two weeks time leave from working at the Ministry to sign a contract with a wizard and provide proof to the Ministry. In such time, should she not complete their terms, her employment with the Ministry would be effectively terminated. The situation was overwhelming at first. Her job required that she lay with a man of no particular choosing, least of all hers. When she left the office, she had been so angry she could feel the hair on the back of her head rising like a cat's. Sure, the thought bitterly of the Ministry officials, you can have your job back. Just go find a man to sleep with, and it's all yours.

At least the Ministry wasn't resorting to medieval legislature. It wasn't like someone would be sent to confirm the consummation of the contract. Just one piece of paper and two signatures could solve all her problems. Suddenly, the bright witch sat up. Wiping the tears from her face with a shaking hand, Hermione unwrapped the crumpled ball of a newspaper and began to re-read it. According to the article all she need was a wizard's token to show she was taken and a signed piece of paper with the Ministry of Magic's stamp of approval. She'd worked more difficult forgery spells for Harry and Ron at Hogwarts. Sure the forgery would not be good enough to salvage her employment at the Ministry, but if would pass a layman's inspection. That would keep most wizards away from her until she could find a better plan.