Wedded Bliss

Neville was a relatively valuable boy. Sure, he wasn't a whiz at trivia, didn't have remarkable Potions skills, and couldn't play Quiddich to save his- or anyone else's, for that matter- life. But he had progressed well past burning water when attempting to cook recently, had taken quite nicely to gardening his own herbs and plants, and could...actually that was all at the moment. But the point was that Neville would make a very nice housewife someday for some moderately lucky wizard- putting aside the fact that Neville himself was a boy and had not up to this point shown any romantic interest in anyone at all, excepting his ever-loyal toad, now deceased and buried amongst the weeds of their flowerbed.

His grandmother, never a dim woman, even less so in her age, noticed this quite well. As he grew from a stuttering child to a shy teenager, Augusta Longbottom mentally reviewed possible mates for her little boy. Girls, she knew, were no longer an option- he would be incapable of speaking to, let alone marrying, one remotely worth the name Longbottom.

Really, he had grown so nicely into himself considering, she mused. He looked like his Mother, all softness- with eyes the color of honey and hair to match. The only bit of his Father remaining was his smile- sincere to a near fault. Honestly, the boy was too easy to read. But despite his faults, he was a Longbottom and Longbottoms were certainly worth more than the common Patil or Abbot- God forbid she would ever sink so far as to arrange a merging with those horribly crass people.

It was then merely a matter of weeding out the weak in a possible mate. Feigning interest in his school life, Augusta was able to derive a list of potentials:

G: Thomas, Dean; Finnigan, Seamus; Potter, Harry; Weasley, Ronald

H: Finch-Fletchley, Justin; Macmillan, Ernie

R: Boot, Terry; Belby, Marcus

S: Malfoy, Draco; Zabini, Blaise; Crabbe, Vincent; Goyle, Gregory

Let's see now...Thomas is dating that Weasley girl if I recall correctly, and from what Neville's told me Potter's panting after some Ravenclaw bint- irreversibly female-inclined. Weasley- ah, too many relatives. We'd run out of food too quickly. Hmm, Macmillan is even shorter than my dear, so that's a no.

She frowned and scratched through a few names- Belby's sister is marrying into the Abbot family- no sense associating with that trash. Crabbe and Goyle are Neanderthals- that's a no go. Finnigan- Well, I reckon no on that match too. Longbottom's don't marry the poor, after all. Hmmm. Finch-Fletchley is muggle-born- gods that would be awkward. No, I think.

It was settled, the prospects were picked- now all that was left was to see who was interested. Augusta hummed happily to herself and folded the list carefully before placing it within her robes to look over later. After all, it wouldn't do for Neville to discover her plans before she could surprise him with a husband. Oh, she couldn't wait to see the look on his face!

"You want me to- marry? How does that possibly help the Dark Lord?"

Lucius winced and gestured a house-elf out of the room after it set a steaming pot of tea on the table. "No need to shout, Draco. The Dark Lord has purpose for you-"

Groaning, Draco sunk into his seat and reached shakily for his tea cup. "Alright, I understand the He-has-purpose-for-me crap. But what could a marriage do for him?"

"Language, Draco." Lucius chided, wagging a perfectly manicured finger in front of his nose. He set admiring eyes upon his well-kempt nails, and tucked them reverently within his sleeves.

"Not a marriage in general. You will not pick your own bride out-" He scoffed at the thought. "-instead the Dark Lord will choose."

"Who?"

"At this point, it is undecided. All I am aware of is that your bride must be well-known for opposing the Dark Lord- that way the marriage will not only create a distraction in the Dark Lord's favor, but the old fool will no doubt grow to trust you if we choose wisely enough- leaving that hideous Order completely vulnerable." There was a sigh of delight, whether at the thought of Dumbledore defeated or the aroma of the tea, Draco wasn't sure.

"When will you know?"

"When the Dark Lord decides, naturally. Draco, be thankful for this opportunity. Some were in favor of simply killing you and leaving the job in more...obedient hands."

"I am very grateful- please excuse me, Father."

Lucius sipped the last of his cooling tea and tapped his cane exasperatedly at his son's childish attitude. Couldn't he see the second chance he'd been granted, despite his numerous short comings? That boy would be the death of him.

Grunting he stood and walked out of the door, directing his footsteps toward the library. Reaching his destination, Lucius sat and dabbed a quill to his tongue. Setting the quill to parchment, he scribbled out a brief note and sealed it to be sent by a house-elf the next morning.

Raising his arms above his head and leaning back into his chair, he was caught mid-stretch by a tapping on his window. Frowning slightly, he rose and opened the window, eyebrow twitching in annoyance at the owl that dropped onto his perfectly immaculate desk.

With a sigh Lucius unfurled the note, the owl flying into the night once relieved of its burden. One eyebrow raised, he scoured the contents of the letter. A smile appearing, he ripped the seal off of his already-written letter and hastily scribbled an addition to it, before sealing it again with a flourish.

Lucius grabbed the envelope and set off on a brisk walk toward his owl, this news had to be known by the Dark Lord right away- before that wretched Longbottom woman received a reply from any of the others. Gods, the woman must be daft! Clearly she had no idea of his ahem... loyalties.

The whole situation, ludicrous as it was, was perfect- the Longbottom boy of course couldn't be a wife in the truest sense, but his parents were tortured by the Lestranges- no one would suspect Draco of Death Eater activities. Now all he had to do was head off all the other families contacted. Time to use some of that infamous Malfoy charm...

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