Since his fifth year at Hogwarts, Draco's parents had been pressuring him to find a suitable girlfriend—a pure-blood, of course, who could eventually become his wife. Every holiday, Narcissa's questions became more persistent, her tone more insistent, until Draco felt he could no longer avoid the inevitable.

This year, he decided to give in.

He began scanning the pool of pure-blood girls at Hogwarts, searching for someone who wouldn’t irritate him, who would play her part convincingly, and most importantly, who wouldn’t develop any inconvenient emotional attachments. How he thought of you, Draco couldn’t exactly recall, but from the moment you came to mind, you seemed ideal. You weren’t too bothersome, and you had something he could work with—a need that he could exploit.

Despite your pure-blood status, your family’s financial situation was modest at best. You had enough to get by, but compared to your wealthier friends, you couldn’t indulge in luxuries like sweets from Honeydukes or the latest fashion at Hogsmeade without careful planning and saving. Draco saw an opportunity.

One quiet Saturday afternoon, when most of the Slytherins were out enjoying their free time, Draco found you alone in the common room. Cornering you, he laid out his proposal, his tone calm and businesslike, as if discussing a simple transaction.