Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Golden Girl Announces Competition For Her Heart!

By Rita Skeeter

With the buzz of the impending Marriage Law reaching a fever pitch, Hermione Jean Granger, the most eligible bachelorette in Britain, has announced a competition to win her heart. This reporter sat down with the famous Golden Girl to learn the details of the competition so that you, Dear Reader, have all the facts before throwing the proverbial hat in the ring.

Draco Malfoy sighed, setting today's issue of The Daily Prophet down on the table, and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was true, word that the Wizengamot would be enacting a marriage law before the end of the year had made its rounds through all of the usual outlets, overbearing Pureblood mothers everywhere scrambling to make last-minute matches for their darling children before the choice was taken out of their hands and made for them.

Rumour had it that the new law would affect all unmarried wix between the ages of 19 and 40. Those in a pre-existing serious relationship would have 30 days to submit paperwork stating their intent to marry and, upon approval, 90 days to wed. Most concerningly, there was then a 1-year deadline for newly married couples to conceive, taking into account no struggles with fertility or the desire to procreate.

The Second Wizarding War had decimated Britain's wix population, and birth rates had reportedly plunged to alarming levels. Draco, who had been content to live out his days as a bachelor, relegated to the fringes of society due to his status as a former Death Eater, felt a pang of sympathy for the witch unlucky enough to be paired with him. He was under no illusion that he would be making a match prior to the deadline; he had become a pariah and a social recluse, shut away within the halls of Malfoy Manor for the 8 years since the Battle of Hogwarts.

It had suited him just fine to be shut away with the ghosts of his past, a penance for the mistakes of his youth and his family's. But now he was faced with being assigned to a woman who could never love him, whose own social status would be smeared through association with the Malfoy name.

He skimmed the remainder of the article, which included a photo of a beautiful chocolate-brown Birman-Cross cat, wearing a gold collar with a gold key at the apex of its throat. According to what Skeeter had written, Granger had charmed the key to open the door to her London flat, and whoever could catch the cat and therefore the key that opened the door would be the wizard she would marry. In the article, Granger had briefly mentioned the quest for the Sorcerer's Stone in First Year, when she, Potter, and Weaselbee had to track down a specific key to open a locket to find the stone, which inspired this particular task.

Draco, who was by nature competitive, briefly entertained the thought of entering for the sake of a challenge to be won but quickly dismissed it, imagining the horror on Granger's face when he appeared in her doorway, holding her cat and the key, ready to claim the profits of his winnings.

No, he told himself, shaking his head, he would not enter and thought that at least by hosting this competition, Granger would be removed from the list of potential witches who could possibly be doomed to a lifetime chained to the Malfoy name.

He looked at the paper one more time before turning the page, a headshot of Granger smiling at the top of the article. She had grown beautiful in their years since Hogwarts, her face classically balanced, her skin tawny and luminous with a sprinkle of freckles that kissed the bridge of her nose. She had learned to manage her hair; the days of her bushy, frizzy mane behind her, now coiffed with ringlets that spiralled around her face, looking impossibly soft.

If he were to be paired with a witch half as beautiful as she, he would count himself lucky. Draco hadn't seen Granger in many years, and only then in passing, as they brushed past each other in the halls of the Ministry where she worked and he reported as part of the terms of his probation.

She was an Unspeakable now, working in the Department of Mysteries with his friend Theodore Nott. They had become friends working together, and then best friends, and now they even lived in the same building in Muggle London. Theo experienced some discrimination due to the affiliation of his now-deceased Death Eater father, but since he himself never took the Dark Mark, it was to a lesser degree than what Draco experienced.

Theo and Draco were still friends but kept their friendship quiet; in fact, Draco kept all of his friendships quiet, flooing directly to their homes on the occasions they made plans, never venturing outside unless they were travelling abroad.

Of all the Slytherins he maintained contact with, Draco had the hardest time reintegrating into wizarding society, but he had made his peace with it. He deserved it, the nasty looks and the spewed vitriol for the time he had spent in Voldemort's inner circle.

As part of his probation, Draco had to attend weekly sessions with a Mind Healer and was still working on developing self-compassion and, maybe one day, self-forgiveness. Although he had grown and changed, no longer that selfish, bigoted boy who was threatened by the things he didn't understand, Draco couldn't erase the sins of his past and had taken accountability for the choice he had made.

His Mind Healer, Rupert, Gods bless him, tried to impress upon Draco that he was only a child during the war, at the mercy of a psychopath who threatened the safety of his family, forced to make an impossible decision. Draco thought things were less nuanced; he was a baddie, a member of the losing side, and this is simply what happened when you made a bad choice and lost everything.

Maybe it was an exaggeration to say that he had lost everything, for he still had the manor and his immense wealth, even after the Ministry ordered reparations. But his father Lucius had been sentenced to Azkaban, where he died only two years later, and his mother, who had never been strong in constitution, died a few months after that, due to what the Healers dubbed 'the curse of a heart that has been grievously broken.'

So Draco was all alone now in the manor, no family left to speak of except for his estranged Aunt Andromeda and her grandson Teddy Lupin, who Draco was sure wanted nothing to do with him.

He finished his breakfast, leaving the paper behind, and began to walk the halls of the manor, the way he did every morning. The portraits of his ancestors berated him as he passed, blaming him for the fall from grace that he was responsible for, forever tarnishing the great and noble houses of Malfoy and Black.

Soon, he arrived at his Potions Lab, his favourite room in the manor, a place that was only for him. Due to a bevvy of clever lawyers, he had established a series of shell companies that allowed him to disguise his work as a potioneer and actually sell his concoctions at apothecaries in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and Hogsmeade. His potions were, of course, all on the up and up; many of his products were the best on the market. The ruse was merely to disguise the association of his name, so that the buyers could buy with confidence rather than suspicion.

He checked on the cauldrons he had going, giving one a stir right when the timer on his wand went off. In addition to selling his products, he also made a store of wolfsbane every month, donating it through the companies as a "tax write-off", but really it was because he had just wanted to help.

The time he had spent in proximity to Greyback had made a lasting impression on him, and after the Battle of Hogwarts, the number of werewolves in Britain had swelled. One of his schoolmates, Lavender Brown, had barely survived being attacked by Greyback himself and was left with not only significant scars across her face and chest but also transformed monthly into a wolf. She now worked as a Healer at St Mungo's, and he was told that she was the liaison who gratefully accepted his monthly donations of potions. Although no one knew it, it brought him a modicum of happiness to see that he had made a positive difference in some people's lives.

Satisfied with the status of his brews, he went to the stock cupboard, taking inventory of the ingredients he would soon need to replenish. He would place the order through a shell company directly with another former classmate, Neville Longbottom's nursery and potion supply company. Draco knew he could never make up for how he had bullied him as a boy, but liked to think his patronage from the early days of Longbottom's new business had an impact on its viability.

Sometime in the afternoon, Draco was sitting in the library reading the biography of Ptolemy Pinchweather, a famous 15th-century potioneer, when Theo's chimpanzee patronus appeared.

"Draco, fancy drinks later at mine? Say 20:00?"

He nodded in agreement even though he knew Theo couldn't see him. The thing about Draco was that he never had plans unless they were with Theo, so the man always knew when he would be free. He had learned long ago that trying to resist Theo was a fool's errand; Theo's talent as an Unspeakable meant he had many ways to ensure cooperation, and Draco would rather not find out exactly what they were.

It had been a few weeks since they last got together, and Draco found his spirits slightly lifted at the thought of having plans later that evening. He wondered if Theo had invited anyone else over; it had been an age since he had last seen Pansy, Blaise and Greg. He hoped so, wanting to hear how they were adjusting to the gossip about the marriage law and whether they knew anyone who had recently made a match.

He had a quiet dinner at 18:30, then hopped into the shower, rinsing off the day. He dressed casually in a cashmere charcoal grey sweater and black trousers, tying the laces of his black dress shoes before heading out the door.

At exactly 20:05, he stepped into the floo and, with a pinch of powder, called out, "Nott Flat," as green flames exploded around him. When he stepped out the other side into Theo's living room, soft jazz was playing in the background, and he noticed that a handful of his friends were already clustered around the bar.

"Hello, everyone," he said jovially, his face cracking open into a smile. He noticed Theo, Pansy, and Greg right away and gave each of them a nod. Then, to his surprise, a fourth head turned, brunette curls shimmering as it moved, finding himself staring into the golden-brown eyes of Hermione Granger.

"Granger," he splutted out, taken by surprise.

"Malfoy," she replied curtly, but her expression was warm as she cradled a glass of firewhiskey in her hand. "Fancy a drink?"

He was too surprised by her congeniality to do anything but nod yes, and watched as her graceful hand poured him a glass of the liquor. She handed it to him, then clinked their glasses together in a cheers, the corners of her eyes crinkled as she looked up at him.

His friends already had their own drinks and had drifted away, leaving the two of them in relative solitude. There was a moment of silence which Draco rushed to fill, as decorum dictated he should.

"How are things with you, Granger? I saw your article in the paper this morning."

She flushed a bit, her cheeks turning the prettiest shade of mauve. "Oh well, you know. With this marriage law, I figure taking things into my own hands is better than waiting around for the Ministry to make me a random match, and it's not like I currently have any prospects as a chronically single person."

Draco was a little surprised to hear that. She was the Golden Girl, famous, accomplished, and beautiful. What wizard wouldn't want to date her?

"Thank you," she said, flushing deeper and Draco, to his horror, realised he had spoken all of that aloud.

"Sorry if that made you uncomfortable," he corrected quickly.

"Not at all," she kindly reassured him, her grace only furthering his point about her eligibility as a bachelorette. "I don't want someone who just wants me because I'm the 'Golden Girl', I want someone who sees me for me, for the person that I am, not the sum of my accomplishments. And don't get me started on the famemongers who want proximity to the 'Golden Trio', it's exhausting filtering them out. This way, with the competition, I at least have a chance of finding someone who will actually put in the work to win me over. And I'll know that they like cats."

"Cats are excellent judges of character," he agreed wholeheartedly.

Surprise quickly crossed her face, replaced with a genuine smile. It made her look even prettier, he thought to himself, taking care to bite his tongue lest the words escape his mouth again. "They are, my cat Crookshanks, always knew the good from the bad eggs. He hated Ron's rat, did you know that? Peter Pettigrew, the animagus. Crookshanks knew there was something off with him."

"The great orange beastie with the smushed face? I remember him from Hogwarts. He used to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room."

Another look of surprise. "You knew Crookshanks?"

"He started sneaking into our Common Room, First Year. At first, I thought he was a castle cat, but you could tell by his demeanour that he was someone's familiar. I didn't know he was yours, though. I used to feed him chicken I would wrap in napkins from the Great Hall after dinner on occasion. He even made his way into my room and slept on my pillow a few times. I could always tell because he would leave behind long orange hairs."

Granger's eyes got a little misty. "Thank you for sharing that. I miss him so much. He's with my parents in Australia now. I had to leave him with them when I went on the run with Harry and Ron."

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over his head, the remembrance that she was a war hero who had fought, against all odds, on the side of the light. In contrast, he had made all the wrong choices and had supported a fanatical blood purist who, had he won, would have either killed her or made her life a living nightmare.

He gave her a stiff little nod. "Thank you for the drink, Granger," he said, moving to dismiss himself. She didn't deserve to be saddled with his poor company. She was so much better than that.

Draco must have been imagining things, for he thought he saw a look of disappointment flash across her face. No, he scolded himself internally, she was merely a kind person being charitable to him because she was a guest in Theodore's home. She couldn't actually have been enjoying conversing with him.

He left her standing at the bar alone, making his way back to his friends and safer waters. There was a bit of commotion a moment later when Blaise strode in, winking in hello before making his way over to the bar and joining Granger.

Draco sighed in relief; the twinge of guilt for leaving her standing there was alleviated now that she was in better company. He turned to Theo, who smiled at him, clinking their glasses together in greeting.

"Good to see you, Theo. Thanks for the invite." He nodded his head in Granger's direction. "I was surprised to see her here tonight, though."

Theo looked at him with a serious expression. "You know she's my best friend, right, Draco? It's normal for friends to become friends with your friends. She and Pansy go to brunch together at least once a month, and she and Greg have been training at the gym together on occasion. Blaise invited us to his villa to go wine tasting this summer. You're the only one she doesn't really know."

This was news to Draco, who hadn't realised that Granger had been infiltrating their friend group. "I do know she's your best friend, I just didn't realise she would want to be friends with the likes of us."

Theo rolled his eyes, taking a long sip from his glass. "And why not exactly? We're fabulous. I have great taste in friends."

"Yeah, Draco," Pansy interjected. "I resent that." Over her shoulder, Greg nodded in agreement.

"Fine, sorry. You're all great. It's me who's the problem. I'm surprised she even wants to breathe the same air as me after everything I've done."

Greg's meaty hand clapped on his shoulder. "Hermione's wonderful and has a big heart. I'm sure she'll forgive you if you talk to her."

The thing was, Draco had apologised to Granger a long time ago. They had bumped into each other at the Ministry, and Draco had haltingly asked her if she had a moment before stepping into an empty conference room. There, he had laid his heart bare, apologising for everything from calling her a mudblood to standing over her and doing nothing while his aunt tortured her.

She had been quiet for a long moment, clearly unprepared for his verbal diatribe. He had waited, prepared for her to unleash her disdain and fury on him, and was surprised when she merely thanked him and said she had forgiven him before she testified on his behalf during his trial.

Draco was not emotionally regulated enough at the time to bear the relief her words brought him in front of her. He had run, then shut himself inside a broom closet where he had broken down and wept. He had pledged to honour her kindness by staying out of her way. He had thought he had done a good job of it up until today, when their interaction had proven to be unavoidable.

"I talk about you all the time, mate," Theo added. "She's never once acted like she doesn't want to hear about you. Hermione is a good person. You should give her a chance."

It wasn't that Draco didn't want to give her a chance; he knew that she was good, and that was the problem. She was too good for the likes of him, and he didn't want to subject her to his presence.

Theo nodded again. "They're coming. Be nice." His voice dropped into a threatening register.

Draco smeared a smile across his face, turning to greet Blaise and nod again at Granger. Maybe Theo was right, but he certainly wasn't going to take it upon himself to impose on her goodwill. He would keep to himself and only speak when spoken to.

Oddly enough, when Granger joined their small group, she stepped into the space right by his elbow. He nodded in acknowledgement, then tuned his awareness back to the conversation. She chimed in, clearly at ease with his friends, fitting right in. Everyone laughed, and for the first time, Draco realised that Granger was funny, something he hadn't known before with their limited interactions.

The night went on, and Draco got a bit drunk, just enough to smooth out the harsh edges and make everything feel a little hazy. When it came time to go, Draco found that he wasn't ready to floo back to the silent tomb that was the manor just yet, deciding to walk a bit and then eventually apparate home once he was sober. Everyone else had left through the floo, except for Granger, who lived in Theo's building. She had left 30 minutes before everyone else, citing an early meeting and giving Theo a stern look.

Draco said goodnight to his friend, casting a warming charm before heading out. Standing beneath the awning, he silently berated himself for not bringing a coat before stuffing his fingers into his pockets. The night air was chilly, and already the tips of his ears were turning cold.

Just as he was about to walk down the front steps and brown blur darted out, winding in a figure out around his ankles.

He bent down, scratching the beautiful creature behind its ears. "Oh, hello, darling," he murmured, luxuriating in its soft, brown fur. "What's your name?" and reached for its collar only to find that instead of a name tag, it wore a key around its neck.

He suddenly realised that this was the cat, the one from Skeeter's article he had read earlier that same morning. He chuckled, petting the cat under its chin. "Everyone is going to be looking for you, love. Aren't I the lucky one that you've come to me?"

The cat started purring, and Draco sat on the stairs, content to take a few minutes to sit together. To his surprise, the cat crawled into his lap, chasing his fingers and starting to purr.

'What is your name, pretty girl?" he asked again. "I should have asked your owner earlier tonight." The soft vibrations and warm weight were comforting on his stomach, releasing the tension he didn't know he was carrying from his shoulders.

"Hm, maybe Cocoa?" The cat nipped at his fingers. "No, not Cocoa then."

"How about Mocha?" The cat swatted at his hand. "Okay, no food-related names then."

"Chestnut? Or Fawn?" Those earned him another nip.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "I'm never going to guess, am I?" The cat let out a little meow.

"What if I pick a name for just you and me then? A nickname of sorts." The cat started purring again.

"Hmm, well. You're very regal. And clearly the prettiest kitty cat I've ever seen. What about Duchess? Hm, want to be my little Duchess?"

The cat, or rather, Duchess, nuzzled into him, her rough little tongue darting out to lick his chin. "Alright, Duchess it is." A warmth settled in over him that had nothing to do with the small animal curled into his body.

Draco wasn't sure how long he had sat there, enjoying the cold night air and his unexpected company. Their peaceful reverie was broken when, a few moments later, he heard the loud crack of apparition come from the alleyway.

There was a grumble, and then a man in a dark-coloured pea coat came into view. Spotting the cat in Draco's lap, he lunged, Duchess, letting out a loud yowl and springing away, her claws digging into Draco's trouser leg as she did.

"Salazar's sack!" he cried out as Duchess slipped away. The man cursed too, rushing after her, Draco hoping that she would be okay.

He lingered on the stoop, standing up, brushing the wrinkles on his pants and craning his ears. A few moments later, the man came stomping back around the corner, muttering fiercely under his breath.

Now that Draco was more focused, he realised he recognised the wizard; it was Cormac McLaggen. "Alright, there, McLaggen?" he asked, not really caring to hear his answer.

"Bloody feline, it's impossible to catch. Granger is a menace for that one." He grumbled with dissatisfaction.

A smug sense of self-righteousness washed over Draco. He had been minding his business, and Duchess had come to him. He couldn't help but get a dig in. "Cats are an excellent judge of character, you know?"

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy," McLaggen yelled out before turning back into the alley and disapparting away.

Draco half wanted to stay and see if any other wizards would be futilely fumbling after Duchess. He stood for a bit longer, hands in his pockets, but eventually had to admit to himself that she probably wouldn't be back again that night. After the fright of McLaggen chasing her, the cat likely made her way back inside and was safely snuggled up in the bed with her owner.

When he finally turned onto the street, he did so whistling a jaunty tune under his breath.