A/N: I've been in the fandom for well over a decade and one of my favorite AU scenarios is the Marriage Law. This is my subdued take, and I'm mostly writing this as writing practice. Any constructive criticism and general feedback welcome. Thanks to the best friend a girl could ask for, Keshia-515. She looked over this fic and gave me a lot of confidence.
Hermione Granger did precisely three things right after the war ended, in no particular order: cry that it was all finally done and over with, hug her friends with a fierceness that said she would never let them go, and wonder if her parents would hate her when they found out what she did to protect them.
Ruminating about her life over piping hot tea in the newly renovated living room with Molly and Arthur at the Burrow was a hard habit to break. It kept her sane to socialize, to drink tea, and update her spiritual family about the simple things. Keeping her mind active was a chore she enjoyed maintaining, but it often brought her anxiety as well. Hermione's thoughts often raced, and staying near her friends was one way to keep her mind quiet.
Harry and Ron were the two friends everyone expected her to have, and she gladly accepted the box people kept her in, regarding her friendship with them. Ginny became an outstanding confidante, and Luna, whose unconventional ways became endearing over time instead of obnoxious as Hermione had feared, had stepped up as a friend as well. Luna and Hermione kept regular correspondence with each other and it was a welcome distraction.
She was staying at the Burrow for the time being. The Weasleys were accepting of her, as if she was their daughter; the immediate and warm acceptance made life easier to bear.
Her thoughts kept drifting back to her parents, and how their lives were without her. She briefly wondered if it was selfish to assume they were miserable without her, but it was also equally frightening to think about the prospects of their happiness without her. The Weasleys kindness was a genuine blessing. Seasons changed, and so did the people around her. No one had truly returned to normal. Everyone questioned what the new normal was now that everything was turned upside down.
It was February of 1999, and here there were no answers.
Hermione needed to create her own answers. It wasn't fair, sure, but ambition didn't know fairness. Or limits, for that matter.
She had two choices: go to Australia, and find her parents to face the consequences of her actions or live her life without that closure.
How much deliberation did she need to decide, anyway? It shouldn't be this hard to figure out how to settle on the decision of traveling to Australia! It was an enormous decision and Hermione went into causing their amnesia alone. Having taken the risk of the magnitude of her loneliness without her beloved parents haunted Hermione. Knowing the repercussions of having caused her parents amnesia. The plunge into uncertainty was a heavy burden to carry. The intensity of loneliness couldn't be properly explained to her chosen family. It was for the sake of her parents, sure, but it still made her heart ache; what if there were unforeseen consequences were more dire than she initially anticipated?
She wanted badly to stay at Hogwarts for as long as she could. Hogwarts was the only place Hermione had truly felt at home, and that feeling had never changed in seven years; she was a quiet child, and found it difficult to relate to other people her age, as her voracious desire for knowledge intimidated everyone. As a result, she had few friends, and even fewer ways to connect emotionally. Teachers were delighted at her maturity, but in reality they were delighted that she didn't cause trouble. Hogwarts taught her the power of connection, and the power of solidarity.
She gave that sense of familial dedication up to save the world that saved her. However, as an only child, she had a duty to rectify that issue of what she felt was essentially abandonment. Her two closest, Harry and Ron, didn't appear in her life soon enough; despite complaints when dealing with someone they've known for so many years, she loved these two goofy guys with as much heart as she could muster and it was her duty to keep them in the loop.
Hermione had to do what was right, and she had to do it as quickly as possible. Now...how was she to tell Harry and Ron?
Harry and Ron were in the living room at the Burrow, relaxing on the battered but comfortable sofa. Hermione didn't want to disturb their relaxation, but this was important to her. The sun shone through the windows, half-obscured by maroon and gold linen curtains, making the room feel more cozy. Although the burgundy shag rug sitting at the center had seen better days, it really brought the rustic warmth of the room together; there was even a coffee table atop the shag rug with some art books from wizard artists. Harry had introduced the concept of Muggle style decorating from thrift stores to the Weasleys, and they were thrilled. Hermione
"Harry, Ron...I have something important to tell you." The solemn look of utter serene calm on Hermione's face didn't seem to register for Harry and Ron. They seemed in fairly good spirits, jovial even. It was unnerving how well they were listening. Was this revelation something they could handle?
"On with it, Hermione. We don't have all day," said Harry.
"Spit it out," Ron exclaimed, further attempting to get Hermione to express herself.
"I'm going to Australia to give my parents back their memories. If all goes right, I'm going to have them go back to England with me so we can live together again as a family."
"Say no more, Hermione!" Ron said in a nonchalant tone, waving his hand dismissively. His quick response into positivity made Hermione's heart sing.
"We understand. And we want to come with you!" Harry said.
"Yeah, absolutely. Anything for our best friend," Ron added.
"Really? Would you do that?" Hermione couldn't hide her mixed emotions: ecstacy and confusion both evident in the way she carried herself.
"Of course. You were alone making the decision in the first place," Harry explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You shouldn't have to be alone dealing with your family a second time. We're like family, after all," Ron said with a grin. She acquiesced a lot quicker than she expected to on the matter. Ron and Harry, in the strangest of ways, were her brothers and she loved them as such; it was a comfort to know they cared about her this deeply. How could she argue? It was too good to pass up.
Besides, the Trio were a family. Leaving them behind would be a blasphemous act Hermione couldn't go through with and have a clear conscious.
"So how do Muggle airports work, anyway?" Ron asked, as they all came together at The Burrow to touch base with each other to cement their plans for picking up Hermione's parents. Both Hermione and Harry laughed to themselves at Ron's cluelessness, even if it made sense. Hermione was well versed in traveling, and had significantly more experience than Harry who had only been on an airplane less than a dozen times.
Both Hermione and Harry took turns explaining how it worked as they took public transport to the airport. It was Harry's idea to take public transport. His reasoning was sound, according to Hermione, and that was the ultimate compliment. They would have more time to discuss Hermione's plan to pick up her parents, and all three of them were able to spend more time together, jointly fascinated by the way the scenery of England passing them by as the bus took its time to drop them off.
All three of them were content to spend time together, and once their stop appeared, Hermione noticed something strange happening to her wand. She walked off the side of the sidewalk, away from nosy, interfering Muggles.
"Do you two feel your wands burning?" Hermione asked in an anxious whisper. The second she asked, Harry and Ron checked their pockets in unison.
"Yeah. It is burning…" Ron said. All three of them stopped dead in the middle of the busy street, confused with the recent happening. Although they looked strange as is, standing slack-jawed in the middle of the busy sidewalk was more strange; they sobered up long enough to move out of the way to pay attention to their burning wands.
"Wonder why," Harry mused. All three of them turned their backs to the crowds of people, and a familiar voice started speaking from their wands: Kingsley Shacklebolt, the first democratically elected Minister for Magic in the wizarding world. Seeing his face was a calm reminder that even in chaos, one could remain collected under pressure.
"To all wizardkind in England, I must inform you of an important issue. The population of wizards has diminished significantly after the War ended. It is a tragedy and mourning our fallen comrades is necessary in this unpredictable post-War era. However, with the death of so many people, we lose much of our lengthy history, our time-honored traditions, our ability to explore a future to keep us afloat. Although we have historians furtively and intensely keeping our livelihood written down, it takes more than a handful of historians to remember our history. It is up to you all, all of wizardkind, to repopulate to keep future generations. I will send out a letter by owl with further information; expect this letter to appear in twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
His somber voice sounded as if he was sarcastically reading the announcement. It was a strange situation to hear about over a voice message, and Hermione wished she could've heard this in person. Maybe it would've been less shocking.
"Is this real?" Ron asked, too incredulous to realize he was in public.
"It has to be. I can't imagine getting an official notification from Kingsley Shacklebolt of all people and having it be fake," Harry reasoned, but he didn't seem too convinced himself.
Hermione balled her fists so intensely, her knuckles turned white. That was enough of a response that Ron and Harry realized logic and reason wouldn't be useful when talking to her right now: she, like Ron and Harry, were too emotional to truly talk about this in a useful way.
"Let's get to the airport. Wouldn't want to miss our flight," Harry said in an attempt to lighten the mood. They all moved with the fluidity of people who hadn't just had a bombshell dropped upon their shoulders.