Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The applause was deafening. Hermione wanted to stand up and walk off the dais, with her hands cupped over her ears, and out of the public eye. It had been just short of two years since the last battle, and she still didn't like large crowds or loud noises.

All the memories, all the loss; it all still seemed like it happened yesterday.

Presently, the small group of survivors-come-war heroes had been sitting, listening to speeches for over an hour so far. They had received medals for bravery and accolades for quick thinking. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville had been offered land titles, and the Ministry had forgiven the debt owed to Gringotts for damages to the infrastructure, freeing a dragon, and other assessed damage to various private homes and neighborhoods.

Each of the other Weasley's were offered a vault with a small lump sum of gold. However, Severus was the man of the hour, considering everything that was discovered after the war. He was given property, a royal title, awarded a yearly stipend, and he was made an offer of employment at any Ministry organization, to include work at St. Mungos.

Hermione looked over to Snape. He was seated two chairs away from her, wearing a more-sour-than-usual expression. She'd been the one to save him that fateful night. It was pure luck that she'd had reserves of herbs, potions and healing salves in her beaded bag. Ronald had grabbed Harry's arm after the three had watched, horrified by Voldemort's betrayal of their Potion's Professor, Nagini slither away.

The tears, the memories, the knowledge that he was one of the good guys; it had been overwhelming and it also spurred Hermione into action. She'd yelled for Harry and Ron to run back, that she would follow shortly. She had shoved Bezoar and antivenin down Snape's throat, cast a Stasis on his neck to stem the blood flow then performed an osmosis charm for blood replenishment potion. It was a hectic moment, but he had coughed and sputtered his way back to life right as she slapped a port key in the palm of his hand. It whisked him away to St. Mungos.

Just then, she was jolted back to the present. Hermione registered that Snape's jaw moved and his eyes cut to the corner. She'd been caught staring. Severus turned his head to face her, shifted his eyes to the crowd in front of them and quirked an eyebrow. It was done in humor and she was moderately successful at keeping in the snort that followed. She covered the sound with a clearing of her throat and an apology when Harry and Kingsley looked at her.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes drifted to where Ron was sitting. They now only interacted as if they had been adversaries in school; former enemies come allies. She supposed that wasn't far off. They had had trouble communicating early on in their relationship, and with his emotional range, her high intellect and constant need to impart knowledge on people; they mixed as well as oil and water. Plus there was his current state… Hermione felt some amount of sympathy for him.

She began to run through the events of the last several months of her life on the run. Her mind drifted to one point; it was the final straw for her in regards to Ron.

**A memory…

Her nail beds were blue and the tip of her nose was numb. She turned her head slightly when she heard Ron mutter, "Bugger!"

"Language, Ron," she calmly reminded. The wind carried her voice, and he stretched his lips. "I am cold, wet, hungry and we are lost. I will use any language I want," he hissed.

He wasn't yelling; his voice was snide and dismissive.

Hermione thought he was acting like a cad. She thought they could, at the very least, retain a modicum of civility towards each other during this rather trying time.

He disagreed.

They were both standing on high ground and looking over the landscape of forestry. Harry was sitting in the tent, brooding as per the usual.

Ron shook his hands as if that would rush the blood to his extremities and warm them. The action did not do anything but cause pain.

Sighing, Hermione looked him over. He had thinned out, mostly due to lack of food and continuous walking, but it didn't suit him. His clothing was tattered and dirty, his face ruddy and his hair thinning. She felt herself get angry at his mere presence, but took another calming breath before she hexed him… again. She looked down at herself. She was also thin, but her clothes were not dirty. They were patched up in several places both by Muggle and magical means, and her hair was kept neat and dry in a tight braid.

Her mother had always said that it was when you felt the worst about someone that you should practice the best of yourself. So that is what she did.

She cast a warming charm over him.

"I don't need your pity," Ron spit out, though he had stopped shaking with the cold. She was tempted to also cast a Tergeo to clean him up a bit, too, but she wasn't in the mood to engage in an all-out row.

He was the reason they were here, lost. He'd come back and convinced Harry that they needed to seek out some oracle, a seer in the Highlands. Somewhere along the way, they had crossed a magical barrier. Hermione speculated that it was a ley line. She'd remembered that Professors McGonagall and Sinistra had shared their theories on the ebb and flow of magical energy running along the Scottish ley lines and the astronomical occurrences at each point.

Coincidently, or not, right as the trio had crossed, there was a surge of magic. They all felt it. It came up around them like an ocean wave then crashed down upon them. When it was all over, Hermione and Harry shook off the charged feeling, but Ron was left nearly barren; his magic was weak and unreliable. He had been unable to successfully wield any magic since the wave. He was almost like a child would be, experiencing accidental magical outbursts. That was two weeks ago. They had been fighting non- stop, and it was taking its toll on everyone.

"So now where to?" Her voice was flat and her question direct.

"Stop pressuring me! I'm thinking!" He snapped.

The hope that she could avoid a row was now dashed. In fact, she was so used to his emotional patterns that she began to count to herself; he would be blaming her in three. Two. One.

Silence.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"This is all your fault, 'Mione!" he barked.

It was so sudden that she jumped. She huffed, her count had been off. Must be lack of sleep, she thought and shook her head to clear it.

"Are you listening?!" he yelled. She hadn't been, but she was now.

Hermione nodded and summarized, making a small attempt to take the sarcastic edge off, but being wholly unsuccessful. "This is my fault. You are hungry and cold, and if I hadn't been rushing you, we wouldn't be here, and you would have led us, without incident, to the Seer for guidance and the way forward. That about cover it?" Her voice was flat and bored. It belied her rapidly beating heart and mental voice shouting that he should go take a long leap off a short pier.

Ron just stared at her. His face was beet red and his fists were balled making his knuckles white. He was angry. She'd never seen him thus; at least directed at her. She almost backed up a step… almost.

His expression twisted and he stepped forward, into her personal space. Hermione felt her body bend backward a bit, but her feet didn't move. "You think you are superior to me now that you have magic and I…?" He swallowed, but didn't finish the sentence, as if the words and the meaning behind them were too hard to say. The question was so strained that spittle flew from his mouth. "My magic will return and my status in society will not change when this is all over, but you-"

He had to pause a moment and lower the stiff finger that he had raised. "You will still be the socially awkward Muggleborn witch, who has absolutely no social grace whatsoever. No one likes you, because no one likes a know-it-all who can't keep her mouth shut. Always by-the-book. You can never just…" he was looking for the right term when Hermione supplied it. "Wing it?"

He didn't respond, or at least she didn't give him time to. "Because winging it has been so successful thus far?" she asked looking around at the vast distances of glacial glens and icy lochs. She thought for a brief moment that if they weren't in the situation they were in, she might find this scenery stunning in its winter beauty, with blue skies and clouds that glow pink in the winter light. Alas, she knew that the desperate emotion now tied to this place would never allow her to return to enjoy it.

"You aren't even pretty." It was low, even for Ron, but he'd said it and he couldn't take it back.

Her emotions peaked. She was somewhere between enraged at his audacity and crushed by his clear betrayal and disdain for her. Her eyes pricked with tears, but she wouldn't let them fall.

Ronald turned back around and Hermione swallowed her broken heart. She cleared her throat. "Right," she whispered as her breath caught. She knew what she had to do.

That was when she'd rushed into the tent and told Harry what they were doing and where they were going. It was just the thing to get him moving. It was what he had been waiting for. Ron was irritated, but said nothing, only helped to pack their things and get going. He side-along Apparated with Harry.

**At Present…

Hermione felt a pinch to her arm and looked up sharply at the culprit. It was Harry and he motioned with his chin to pay attention to Kingsley, who was the new Minister of Magic. Odd. What did Harry care if I am paying attention or not?

Kingsley was speaking about the new bill that was passed unanimously by the Wizengamot. Hermione frowned. New bill?

Kingsley went on to give statistics on low birth rates and the ever-increasing divide between classes, and how it would eventually impact the work place and the economy in the coming years…

Hermione just listened, interested in how this bill would solve the burgeoning crisis and staring in wonder at how quickly Kingsley put it together and submitted the bill for vote. Thinking back now, she wished that she had acted on impulse and walked off the stage.

"…So that is why the Recompense Bill is important and why I would ask for you to receive it with an open mind, armed with the knowledge that it will offer a more positive view of our magical future." Kingsley took a breath, looked around and motioned for Percy Weasley to step forward.

Percy was gangly and odd looking, and seemed as though he was the most uncomfortable person on the planet.

"H-Hello out there." The Sonorus charm failed momentarily, and the crowd only heard the 'H' and 'there'. In the distance, something dropped quite loudly on the ground, and an owl flew overhead; its excrement falling just to the left of Percy, with a loud splat.

He cleared his throat and started again.

"The Recompense Bill will act as a bridge to each of our magical and economical classes. It will allow understanding between the cultures and enable a common goal of equality, social harmony, stronger magic in our children and a broader knowledge base for our citizens." He paused reading from his card to look out to the crowd. It was clear he had been rehearsing, but his speech was still a bit awkward and choppy.

Hermione's brain was working quickly to connect the dots. She pulled Harry in when the light came on. "Did you know about this?" she hissed.

He averted his eyes and that was all the answer she needed. "A Marriage Law?!" she all but shrieked in disbelief as she stood. Her chair dropped backward in time to the general gasp of shock by the audience and a low growl of discontent from Kingsley. She also thought she heard Harry whisper-shout, 'I told you to tell her before we came out here' to Kingsley.

Percy skittered to the side, afraid that Hermione might cast an Unforgiveable his way, and stuttered, "But the Muggleborns get the choice! It's their choice!"

She paused, shaking her head. "My choice?!" she spat. "What happens if we decline? I mean, marriage?!"

Kingsley stepped up and sighed. "You can participate or you can leave." He let that sink in then said, "Your magical brethren need you, Hermione. We need you." He then turned towards the shocked-into-silence crowd and said, "All Muggleborns have five days to make a choice. As of Wednesday of next week, we will begin the transition of removal from our world."

As he left the stage, shaking his head and muttering to himself about how he had expected that to go smoother, Hermione thought that he sounded dooming and wondered what was involved in the 'transition of removal'.

She needed to think. But first, she needed to get her hands on the bill and read it.