Chapter 1: and all hell breaks loose.

Draco drummed his fingers on the tabletop, looked at it in disgust, and told himself sternly that his fingers were going to be soiled enough when he killed Professor McGonagall. No need to worsen the dire situation.

Wait, did he say dire?

He meant perfect.

Because murdering the woman, who had a sadistic streak he had not given her credit for, was definitely in the agenda.

It was to be ticked off soon… Right after inspecting the legs of any passing female in a Hogwarts schoolgirl. Oh, and examining every inch of his blond head. Just in case of -shudder- a misplaced strand.

But back to the current catastrophe, which, shockingly, did not involve neither voyeuristic tendencies nor a rumpled bit of clothing.

It was time to choose the bride.

"What?? " Professor McGonagall's class froze, not so much as sat, in their seats, stunned into silence.

Hermione Granger, as could be expected, was the first to break the silence. "Surely, Professor, you can't mean for us to pair up with a- a- iSlytherin/i," wrinkling her nose in distaste. "To pair us up as husband and wife? Please, no offence, but this time you just have to be joking!"

Murmurs of shocked agreement buzzed throughout the room. Slytherins and Gryffindors agreeing- a truly historic moment.

Professor McGonagall shook her head almost pityingly. "Class, I had trusted that you would respond to this new- ah- pet project of Professor Dumbledore's with maturity."

"Each of the boys is to select a mock bride from the opposite house- and opposite gender," she added with a severe glance at Crabbe who had gazed at Harry with a disturbing look. "To be married to for the rest of the year. You will do everything together, as married couples do. As you have yet to receive definite timetables, as I'm sure you've noticed, the ones that you are going to receive tomorrow, after you have married, will have each couple having every class which you take together scheduled at the same times."

"You will spend every waking moment together, and will only be- ahem- separated at night when you return to your separate house dorms. This project is based on one that Muggle students commonly do at your age."

"Now, will all of the males in this room stand up and approach a female of the opposite house, and.. Uh.. Ask her for her hand in marriage?"

The class remained silent. Every eye was focused on the diminutive frame of the teacher, every mind fervently thinking, If looks could kill.

The Professor pursed her lips, folded her arms tightly across her chest and glared.

And all hell broke loose.

Hermione fingered the soft feathers of her quill impatiently, and rather nervously, as her eyes flickered over the group of Slytherin boys who were inching forward towards the Gryffindor girls. Even as she bent her head over, allowing her sea of curls to curtain her face as she glanced at the Slytherins, it was obvious the Gryffindor females were eyeing Draco Malfoy, in a somewhat.. Predator-like manner.

She shook her hair back and openly eyed the boys, mentally running their statistics in her mind quickly.

This project was actually highly interesting, once you got past the idea of having to be imarriedi to a testosterone-filled Slytherin. She involuntarily shuddered before flicking her hair back and adding some notes to on the project to her already long scroll of parchment that was tickling the floor.

After all, Hermione Granger was hardly about to- what was that term? She hardly used it- mess up on the most vital assignment of the year just because of some boy.

Merlin, no. The boy would just have to deal with her.

Just then, Hermione noticed a pair of rather expensive-looking Doc Martens in front of her desk, but before she could look up, a cool drawl snaked out form above.

"Marry me, Granger?"

The quill slipped from her hand.

Draco Malfoy regarded the brunette amusedly as she froze in shock, recovering only to retrieve her quill. As she bent over, she promptly knocked out her stack of notes.

He rolled his eyes.

If a mock proposal did this to her, he could hardly imagine what she would do when the Weasel did it for real. Have a heart attack, most likely.

"Are you a witch or not, Granger?" he asked contemptuously as she scrambled to get her notes. She looked up and scowled. He sighed. "Not, I suppose."

Raising his wand- "Leviate!"

The mess shuffled apologetically into a neat file and rose onto Grangers' table, guided by his wand. After surveying him suspiciously, she stood up, dusted her robes primly and crossed her arms irritably across her rather bountiful chest.

Draco smiled at her lazily as he wondered why he had, quite suddenly, decided to choose the Mudblood. Of course, dear daddy had asked him not to be that much of a vile bastard that year (supposedly he had too much practice of that) but this was a bit much. Cozying up to Granger- eew, vivid mental picture.

He cast a covert appraisal over Granger's body.

Okay, maybe not.

But then, as he turned around to see Blaise Zabini n bent knee, with a swooning Lavender being supported by a disgruntled Parvati Patil as she grudgingly accepted Crabbe's offer, he was forcibly reminded of why Granger was the best.

At least, comparatively.

Her voice broke his thoughts. "And you chose me, why?"

Turning to her, he spoke as if to a dimwitted child. Huh, I wish. "Mudblood, do not question my bad taste. I need not explain to you. And you will accept, of course.

Her face was going to be contorted for life at the rate she was scowling. "Why, of all the audacity.. Doesn't really look like I have a choice, do I?"

"Not really, no."

"I don't believe this."

"Sadly. That is, that my sanity is going."

She glared. "How the hell am I supposed to marry you?"

"By accepting this ring, of course." He held up a dark green velvet box containing and exquisite emerald ring.

Granger gasped.

Ooh, lovely alliteration.

And so did the rest of the class.