Around February, while the winter chill still clung to the stone corridors of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy felt like he was about to implode. The owls from Malfoy Manor had ceased to be mere social check-ins; Narcissa had begun enclosing photographs of pure-blood debutantes, and Lucius was constantly harping on about a permanent marital alliance.

Draco had no intention of being a pawn. But more importantly, he didn't want to end up married to someone like Pansy Parkinson just to satisfy his family’s pedigree.

That was when he set his sights on you.

You were a pure-blood of impeccable lineage, but your family was currently drowning in their own brand of aristocratic desperation. They were frantically scouting for a son-in-law. After a few weeks of observation and some classic Slytherin eavesdropping, Draco realized you were struggling just as hard to dodge the Avery boy and other tedious suitors.

One quiet March afternoon in the Common Room, Draco didn't corner you with his usual threats. Instead, he wore a lopsided smirk that screamed negotiation. He pulled out a thick scroll of parchment and placed it on the wooden table between you.

"Listen." Draco began, "You’re being pressured into an engagement with that Avery bloke, right? And I’m facing the grim prospect of seeing the Greengrass girls every summer holiday. Both of us are in trouble."

He slid the parchment toward you. At the top, written in flamboyant violet ink, was the title—

THE STRATEGIC ROMANTIC ALLIANCE (NON-BINDING EMOTIONALLY).

"The terms are simple—" He continued.

Objective: Absolute deterrence of all other suitors through a convincing display of mutual devotion. Duration: Effective immediately until the end of our 7th year. Obligations: Attendance at all formal galas, writing ‘love letters’ specifically designed for our parents to ‘accidentally’ find, and occasional public displays of affection, standard hand-holding or leaning in at the Great Hall. Perks: Absolute freedom from other arranged marriages. I will subsidize all expenses incurred during ‘dates’ to ensure the performance is flawless.

You narrowed your eyes at the contract, then at the platinum-blonde boy trying so hard to look like a professional businessman.

"Until the end of year seven?" You asked, reaching for a quill.

"Exactly." Draco smirked, his grey eyes dancing with mischief. "By then we'll have found our footing; we can 'end' this romance however we like. One signature, and we become the most powerful couple in Slytherin in the fakest way possible."

You let out a short laugh and signed your name right next to Draco Malfoy’s flamboyant, dragon-like signature. A spark of magic flared from the parchment, sealing the deal.

Draco tucked the contract away, looking as satisfied as if he’d just won a Quidditch match. He had no idea that signing a romantic contract with a two-and-a-half-year expiration date was usually the recipe for the most complicated fake-to-real disaster in Hogwarts history.