A Rake, A Spinster, And An Arrangement

Chapter 13 : To Marry One's Best Friend (Ep 3)

It has come to my attention that many are still questioning the motives of the Prince, and I must confess that I am among them. Why would a young, unwed gentleman arrive in the middle of the social season, unless it is to find a bride? And yet, it is not the young ladies of the ton that have his attention.

Instead, it seems as though the Prince is looking to establish himself in business, and while a great many younger sons and lesser nobles are enjoying trying to prove themselves, the ladies are greatly exacerbated.

Yet another eligible bachelor that is not looking for a bride? How is one to cope?

Not a single match has led to matrimony, and while a fair number of couples are now courting with many mamas wearing smiles, the most anticipated match of the season has still not been finalized. The Duke of Wiltshire has disposed of his first rival, Mr Ronald Weasley, and has beaten away the rest of Miss Potter's suitors, although a fair few do still attempt to dance with her at each ball.

And yet, her eyes remain firmly on the Duke.

When will he propose? Has he simply been awaiting the arrival of his friends? What could cause him to linger now? Surely, it is not the recent death of his father. The want of an heir is far more important than following a period of mourning.

The Duke had best propose before Miss Potter washes her hands of him...

"Harry Potter, racing on a horse half hanging off of it, all to catch a small ball?" Hermione asked, laughing after every other word.

"How he did not fall off, we shall never know. I felt as though I broke every bone in my body when I fell."

Hermione laughed harder as Draco continued the story about how the two boys had finally, sort of, formed their friendship. She had heard bits of pieces about their initial rivalry, but, over the weeks, they had been building up to this.

"So of course, I demanded a rematch," Draco continued. "Which, he denied. And so, I challenged him to a duel!"

"You did not!" Hermione gasped, her hand slapping onto Draco's arm in admonishment. "A duel! How childish!"

"We were but sixteen!" Draco responded, laughing. "And besides, your brother is a terrible shot. I swear, he has a better chance of hitting me if he shot straight up into the air!"

Hermione had seen Harry shoot before, and knew it to be the truth, but she still felt as though she must defend her brother.

"Well, given you are both alive, it seems as though he is not the only terrible shot," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"I never took a shot!" Draco insisted, grinning down at her. "We went to walk ten paces, but he turned around, punched me, grabbed both pistols, and missed with both."

Hermione stared at the Duke in shock and horror that her brother would be so dishonorable, but the grin that the man beside her wore said it was clearly fine with him.

"In the end, we shook hands, shared a drink, and became lifelong friends, despite the fact that everything says we should always be enemies. The last time anyone from my family aligned themselves with a Potter was my cousin Sirius, twenty or so years ago..."

Hermione said nothing as the Duke's voice trailed off, and she tried to not think on it. The last time one with Black blood became friends with a Potter, they had been banished from their family... and killed for it.

"Your father, he said nothing of your friendship?" Hermione asked, looking up at the Duke.

Draco looked down at her, a touch of sadness in his eyes, and shook his head. "My father never had much to say to me."