I. The Calm
Michael Corner was the first of them.
It had been just another typical Monday at the Ministry for Hermione when her assistant told her that a Michael Corner was here to see her. He was an auror, thus his presence wasn't entirely unusual, but it still was a bit unexpected. They had remained on friendly terms over the years, she had talked with him either at the occasional D.A. reunion, or when Harry invited her to come out with the aurors for drinks (there was quite the overlap for both occasions). But she had no idea as to what could have prompted his visit to her office.
"Send him in," Hermione responded through the magical intercom.
"Hermione!" Michael greeted her enthusiastically as he entered her office. "Sorry to disturb you. It's just that I was supposed to have lunch with Terry, but he bailed for some meeting that came up. Something about snitches malfunctioning. Anyway, I have an extra sandwich on my hands if you're interested."
She checked her watch. "It's noon already?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, I wasn't sure who to give it to, but then I remembered how Harry is always complaining that you never remember to bring lunch."
That was true, mostly because she never really got hungry during lunch, but she knew better than to correct him. She had managed to curb some of her swotty tendencies over the years (key word being 'some').
Instead she smiled at the handsome Ravenclaw. "Oh Michael, that is so thoughtful of you to think of me."
He beamed as he pulled a wrapped sandwich out of the plastic bag he was holding, and handed it to her.
When Hermione noticed that Michael didn't seem to be in any particular rush, she offered for him to stay and have lunch with her. He graciously accepted, and the two of them enjoyed a pleasant meal together.
Tuesday it was Theodore Nott of all people.
Hermione entered the Auror Headquarters to fetch Harry for their weekly lunch date when she was greeted by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.
"You just missed him," Blaise informed her when she approached them. He shared a desk with Harry as they were partners in the field. "It seems as though the rumor mill has decided Mrs. Potter must be pregnant and some reporters tried to sneak in to get a quote."
She frowned at the news. "Again?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently. So Potter made himself scarce. He said to tell you he can meet you tomorrow if you're free."
"Thanks Blaise," she said, nodding.
"You are very welcome," he said before adding, "Oh, before you go, I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about the rumors regarding some piece of legislation the Wizengamot is supposedly about to pass."
Hermione's brows furrowed. As Head of the Public Policy Office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she should have heard something.
"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Why? What have you heard?"
The auror leaned back in his chair. "Only that it's being kept under wraps because it would cause some uproar and no one wants to deal with the blow back until the thing has been passed," Blaise supplied. "Maybe they're finally freeing all of the house elves." He smirked at her when she smacked him on the shoulder.
"Hilarious."
"Oi, Granger," Nott spoke up. "If you've got a moment, I actually have some questions about elves rights. If you're still into that."
Hermione knew that she should go back to work now that her lunch date had been cancelled. But she had a prominent pureblood wizard in front of her voluntarily asking about elves rights. She couldn't resist.
So that was how she ended up spending the rest of her lunch break discussing the various issues regarding the current state of elvish welfare with Nott. Or Theo, as he insisted he called her.
"You use Blaise's first name," he pointed out, as he stood up from the chair across from her desk. They had moved the conversation to her office when Blaise had complained their debate wasn't conducive to him tracking down a wizard who had started a forest fire in protest to pollution caused by muggles.
"Yeah, and that took a few months after he and Harry got paired up," Hermione explained.
Theo raised an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is that I have to earn it?" His eyes, green but darker than Harry's, glittered mischievously.
She eyed him speculatively. "Are you flirting with me, Nott?" Not once in their discussion had it seemed like he had been anything other than genuinely interested in trying to understand her perspective regarding the rights of elves. Actually, he had been a pleasure to converse with as he kept an open mind, but still challenged some of her points. And he was a pleasure to look at as well–-he really had the face of a male model. It was no exaggeration: the combination of his prominent cheekbones and strong jawline was dangerous quite frankly. That and there was something about his eyes that she found intriguing–it was as if they held some kind of inside joke that she wasn't in on yet, but could be.
He just smirked at her.
"Maybe." Still eyeing her, he opened the door. "I'll see you around, Hermione," he said as he winked at her before exiting her office.
On Thursday, Michael made a reappearance, citing how he had enjoyed their lunch on Monday, and that he would love to do it again sometime. While his words were certainly flattering, something felt a bit off. Sure, she had a fine time with him, but that was it: fine. Of course she didn't tell him that, and merely made a vague agreement.
Later that morning she ran into Terry Boot, who happened to be in need of a new book and wanted to know if she had any recommendations.
And then it was during the afternoon when she met Adrian Pucey, who had heard she was the person to talk to in regards to the recent bill addressing discrimination towards werewolves in the workplace. He was also a lawyer, although he didn't work for the ministry, he had taken on a case related to the manner (he couldn't divulge specifics to protect the identity of his client). Before he left, he thanked her with a rather charming smile and asked if she would be interested in getting drinks on Saturday. She accepted.
Instead of flooing home when she left the office (at seven to make up for all of the time she hadn't spent actually working), Hermione decided to pay a visit to 12 Grimmauld Place.
"Oh," she said awkwardly when she walked into the dining room to find Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Susan sharing a meal. Her friends looked somewhat guilty when they saw her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your couples night. I'll just be going then."
"Don't be ridiculous," Ginny said. "You're here, why not join us?"
"Because I wasn't invited?"
Ron snorted, "Only because you don't have a boyfriend or husband at the moment, nor do you have an avid interest in Quidditch. It's not like we planned this with the intention of avoiding you, we just wanted to talk about things we happen to like or have in common that you don't. Obviously you're welcome." That was fair, her friends should be allowed the freedom to discuss subjects that bored her tears. It was actually kind of thoughtful in an unconventional way.
"Stay Hermione," Susan pleaded.
"We insist," Ginny said as she physically dragged Hermione to the table. Harry scooted over to make room, and she ended up sitting between the Potters.
"Thanks, sorry I really didn't mean to intrude," she promised. They assured her that she hadn't.
"Wait, it's a weeknight," Ron stated. "And you're not in your office or at home?" He eyed her skeptically. "Where did you brew the polyjuice potion during our second year?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she still answered, "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. And I'm not always in either the office or my apartment during weekdays." Her friends just looked at her blankly. "Alright fine."
"So to what do we owe the honor?" Harry teased.
Hermione bit her lip. "Do I look different? Different than I usually look?" She received more than one confused expression.
"No, you look the same," Ron supplied. "Is this one of those trick questions and you've gotten a haircut? Oh, I know what it is: you're wearing a new bra!"
Susan let out a bark of laughter while Hermione frowned at him.
"You're lucky your wife has an odd sense of humor," she informed him, wagging her index finger. "Because I'm quite confident that on the top of the list of things never to do in the presence of your wife is 'comment on your ex-girlfriend's boobs'."
"Ex-fiancé," Harry corrected with a wry grin.
"I like to pretend we never had been that deluded about our relationship to believe marriage was ever a good idea," she muttered.
Across the table Ron raised his wineglass to her.
"You were so lucky Audrey gave birth to Molly a week after you called off the wedding," Ginny reminisced. "Who knows how long mum would have been in hysterics otherwise."
"Anyway," Hermione said, too eager to abandon this tangent. "So nothing about me seems any different than normal?" Her friends shook their heads.
"Why do you ask?" Harry said.
She sighed. "You lot have to promise not to laugh."
"Nope," Susan, Ron, and Ginny said simultaneously.
"Whatever," Hermione huffed. "So I've had a bit of a strange week."
"How strange are we talking here?" Harry asked. "'Dumbledore's welcoming speech' type of strange or more of a 'there's a giant three headed dog, and-or a centuries old giant snake in the castle' strange?"
She paused thoughtfully. "I would classify it as 'accidentally transforming into a semi-cat' strange."
"We did not have a normal childhood," Ron muttered, shaking his head.
"Go on," Harry prompted.
"Since Monday it seems I've, uh, received a bit more attention than usual from the male population," she said.
"If you're talking about Blaise–" Harry started, but Hermione interrupted him.
"I'm not. Although now that I think about it, even he has been even more flirty than usual."
When Hermione came back on Wednesday to collect Harry for lunch, she had to wait for him to finish some paperwork. In the meantime, Blaise kept her entertained with innuendos and salacious comments about her appearance, specifically about her 'arse in that skirt'. He even alluded to their previous friends with benefits arrangement from a couple of years ago.
"Wait," Ginny interjected. "So basically you're complaining that men are paying more attention to you than usual?"
"I'm not complaining," Hermione amended. "I just feel somewhat unsettled by the suddenness and frequency of it all."
"I think we need a bit more detail," Susan requested.
"Alright then," Hermione began. "On Monday, Michael Corner came to my office at lunch with this whole story of having an extra sandwich and needing to hand it off, and then stayed to eat with me–"
"Scandalous," uttered Ron. She ignored him.
"Then on Tuesday, not only did Theodore Nott voluntarily ask me about my perspective on elvish welfare, but when I called him out for a flirtatious comment he made, he basically confirmed it and then winked at me."
"Nothing gets Hermione more hot and bothered than discussing elf rights," Ron stage whispered to Susan while smirking across the table at his ex-fiancé.
"Thank Merlin I had a break from it Wednesday, I'm starting to fall behind with all of these... masculine distractions. With the exception of Blaise laying it on quite thickly. Then today, Michael asked if we could have lunch on Monday again. Later Terry bloody Boot entered the mix by asking me if I had any good book recommendations, and then he recommended a book and he insisted on coming by my office and dropping it off so I can borrow it." Hermione stopped to take a breath.
"Maybe it's just a coincidence," Ginny suggested.
"Oh, I'm not done. Because then Adrian Pucey, who was in Slytherin and a year above us, and who I never had spoken to until today, came by my office with the convenient excuse that he wanted to get a better understanding of that werewolf bill I helped pass recently–he's a lawyer. And then after he asked me if I wanted to go out for drinks on Saturday night."
"What did you say?" Ginny asked. The rest of her friends had their faces scrunched up as if they were trying to solve this odd little mystery.
"Well, he really is quite good looking, and charming to boot," Hermione said. "So I said yes."
"Ok," Harry said. "The timing is a bit peculiar."
"Maybe you're giving off crazy pheromones?" Susan suggested.
"Maybe someone's spiking these blokes drinks with love potion to make them lust after you," Ron offered.
Hermione actually considered it. That would somewhat make sense.
"Wait, is Terry Boot a pureblood?" Harry asked thoughtfully. He had on the familiar expression he wore whenever he thought something was afoot. Which occurred more often than was probably healthy for him. Ginny had completely given up on throwing him surprise parties.
Susan nodded, "Yes, why?"
Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "All of them are purebloods."
The next day, after Terry dropped off the book he had mentioned and then suggested they discuss it sometime over drinks, Hermione made a beeline for the Auror Headquarters.
She stopped in her tracks when she recognized a familiar figure standing by Blaise's desk. Only when Michael gave her an eager wave did she resume her mission.
"Oh hey Granger," Blaise said when he saw her approaching. Malfoy immediately swung around to face her. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had seen her childhood nemesis, probably at some fundraiser gala. They ignored each other for the most part, but exchanged pleasantries whenever they were forced to interact.
He gave her a polite, curt nod. "Granger."
"Malfoy," she replied evenly as she returned the gesture.
"Potter's on an assignment at the moment, but if you have a message for him, I can relay it," Blaise offered. He then turned to Malfoy, narrowed his eyes, and pointed a finger at him. "And before you say anything: no, I'm not the Golden Trio's bitch. I just happen to be a gentleman, unlike you."
Hermione couldn't help but snort. "That's debatable. Anyway, I actually came to see you Blaise."
He gave her his Cheshire Cat smile. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
She stole a glance at Malfoy from the corner of her eye. She hadn't intended on having an audience, but if Blaise knew something, then Malfoy probably did too. Especially considering they were both mates with Theo.
"What the fuck is going on?"
Blaise blinked at her while Malfoy snickered.
"Language Granger," the auror admonished.
"What the bloody fuck is going on, Blaise?" Hermione reiterated.
His expression transformed into one of utmost innocence. Bloody Slytherins. "I have no idea of what you could possibly be referring to."
"Damnit Blaise." She slammed her hands onto his desk; he didn't even flinch. "Since Monday, four pureblood wizards have suddenly shown an interest in me. One of them being your mate, Nott. Given the persistence of the other men, I'm surprised he isn't here to ask me if I'm interested in discussing my opinions regarding the treatment of squibs over drinks sometime next week.
The corners of Blaise's mouth twitched.
"Four already? Well aren't they working fast," Malfoy drawled. "Theo was right."
Hermione turned to look up at Malfoy and glared at him. "Theo was right about what? What do you know, Malfoy?"
He had the audacity to smirk at her as he met her glare head on, his own grey eyes glittering with amusement. "Oh, Granger," he replied smoothly as he reached out and captured an errant curl between his long fingers. To make her week somehow more weird, he played with it–tugging on it gently, twirling it around his index finger. Even stranger, she felt her heartbeat speed up. "I could tell you, but where's the fun in that?" He tucked the lock behind her ear.
She didn't miss the silent exchange between Malfoy and Blaise. She also had no idea what it could mean.
"Blaise, as my friend," she tried, turning back to the auror, and distracting herself from her unsettling interaction with the other Slytherin. "If you know something about this weird behavior, please tell me."
At that he gave her a genuinely sympathetic expression. Or it could be another mask for all she knew.
"I would if I could, Granger."
She sighed, exasperated at her utter lack of results. "Blink twice if I've been chosen by some prophecy to be the sacrifice in order to ensure the longevity of pureblood legacies. Or something along those lines."
His face didn't even twitch.
"That only applies if you're a virgin. Oh c'mon Blaise," Malfoy added somewhat joyfully. Suddenly she felt the urge to punch him like she had in third year. "You could at least warn her that it's only going to get worse after today."
Hermione frowned at the blond Slytherin. "You're saying even more pureblood wizards will come on to me?"
Malfoy nodded confidently. "If this week was any indication. But don't worry your pretty little head about it Granger. I'm sure you'll understand come tomorrow."
"What's happening tomorrow?" She ignored that he called her pretty, dismissing the ludicrous notion that he would ever be among the wizards suddenly pursuing her.
"If we told you, you would blab your big Gryffindor mouth, and we can't have that," he explained.
"This isn't some elaborate Slytherin-pureblood prank?"
"Yeah, like we would engage the most capable member of the Golden Trio in some cruel prank," Malfoy scoffed.
"I'll be safe, right?" Hermione asked Blaise, trusting him to warn her if her safety was in jeopardy.
Blaise hesitated. "Nothing you couldn't handle. Who are the other blokes besides Nott and Corner?"
"How did you know about Michael–whatever. Terry Boot and Adrian Pucey."
"You should be fine around those blokes," he assured her.
"Adrian's made a move?" Malfoy asked delightedly. "Did not see that one coming."
"Though," Blaise added thoughtfully, "just in general, you should be wary about being dosed with love potions."
Before she could say anything to reflect how horrified she was by that warning, Malfoy spoke up.
"I thought that there was a clause–" He stopped mid-sentence when Blaise silenced him with a look.
"Clause?" Hermione asked.
"And I believe that's our cue," Blaise said as he stood up from his desk. "Some us have work to do, Granger."
"Fine." She knew a dismissal when she saw one. "But both of you should know that you are massive arseholes."
"Oh, we've known that for a while," Malfoy replied easily as she turned to leave. "Enjoy the calm before the storm, Granger."
The two Slytherins watched the Gryffindor as she stormed out of the office.
"I'm surprised she didn't at least attempt to shove veritaserum down our throats," Blaise commented casually as he sat back down in his desk. "Or threaten us with hexes."
"Well she has no idea what she's in for," Draco replied. "She only just knows that a bunch of blokes are suddenly into her. And I doubt she wants to be accused of being hysterical."
"Yeah, I would hate to be in her shoes," Blaise surmised. "So, any bets on what's going to happen?"
"Ten galleons she stomps in here on Monday and hexes you," Draco said with a chuckle.
"Nah, I've got the chosen one to protect me."
Draco rolled his eyes. "You really would pick Potty over Granger in a duel?"
"Bollocks."
"Exactly."
Blaise and Malfoy had been right.
Hermione was forced to admit it the next morning after scanning the alarming article that took up most of the Saturday edition of the Daily Prophet.
On the front page ran the headline: 'WIZENGAMOT ENACTS MARRIAGE LAW!'
According to the article, the general basis of the law was that all unmarried witches and wizards of age (and finished with schooling) were to get married within the next 365 days. That and all married couples were required to produce two magical offspring. The consequences of ignoring the law would either result in a stint in Azkaban, or an indefinite exile from the magical community. But it wasn't until she read the other stipulations of the law that she grasped what the two Slytherins had meant about understanding what was happening.
While the law allowed witches and wizards to choose their own spouse, however it required that all purebloods had to marry a muggleborn.
And she happened to be one of the most prominent muggleborn witches in Britain. The pureblood wizards weren't suddenly interested in dating her–they wanted to marry her. She groaned.
Fuck.