AN: I'll try to keep Author's notes short as they are annoying…So this is Matched, my first ever Harry Potter fanfiction. Please be gentle, I'm still trying to find my writing style. If you get confused at all, PM me and I'll be happy to explain anything causing you trouble.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, it all belongs to JK Rowling. Enjoy & Review!


Hermione Granger had long since prided herself on knowing everything before everyone else did. It sounded arrogant, but it had always given her a thrill to think she knew what others didn't, that she knew what to expect, how to act and react to any situation. But now, sitting at her kitchen table looking down at the Prophet headline in disbelief, her untouched coffee in one hand, she couldn't believe she hadn't known about this. Studying the moving pictures, she moved her gaze to the bold headline that screamed at her, occupying nearly half of the front page.

"MINISTER FOR MAGIC INTRODUCES NEW MARRIAGE LAW".

"I can't believe it," she muttered. "They actually did it." Instructing herself to be rational, she perused the article once again.

The Minister for Magic Kingsley Shackbolt has announced today that all European witches and wizards of marriageable age will participate in a matching ceremony, whereby each witch or wizard is matched to a suitable suitor based on compatibility. The announcement was made at midnight last night after figures presented by the ministry showed that the wizarding population of Britain has fallen a further fifteen percent over the past three months…

"How dare they!" She said, almost angrily, getting up to pace the length of the cramped but cosy kitchenette, to do what she did best- think. Hermione was not stupid by any means, she should, of course, have expected a law of this sort to come about eventually. It had been two years since the Battle of Hogwarts, two years since peace had been extracted, but in the bloodiest, most savage way possible. Voldemort and his death eaters had ensured that the wizarding world had been forced to pay a heavy price in casualties for his extermination, and even now, clusters of Death Eaters still existed to terrorize wizards and muggles alike. A part of her knew that this law did have some kind of twisted logic- anything that would bring the wizarding community closer to unity once more would be welcome. But the larger part of her mind was outraged that they would even consider taking such a freedom away from normal witches and wizards. Hermione, like her two best friends, had accepted the offer to become an Auror after the Battle of Hogwarts, and was now a top cursebreaker who was equal parts feared and loved within the Ministry. Since her Hogwarts days she had also managed to get S.P.E.W integrated into ministry policy, becoming a major advocate for every magical creature's rights and freedoms- so it was hardly surprising that she had not been informed of the Ministry's decision.

A loud crack punctuated the silence, and even though it happened nearly every morning, the sound still made her jump. She peered out from underneath her messy hair to glare at one Harry Potter, who gave her a grin in return.

"Morning, Hermione," he drawled.

"You have a knack of walking in at the precise moment I'm trying to think," she grumbled. He didn't even have the decency to try to look remorseful, and instead began rummaging through her cupboards. Hermione scowled.

"You have your own apartment!" She cried in exasperation. "Merlin, does Ginny not buy food?" Not that you're exactly wasting away, she thought to herself, taking in his tall frame. Gone were the days of the skinny Harry Potter- now he was broad shouldered and there was muscle on his six-foot frame.

"She does," he managed around two slices of bread. "But your food tastes better." He winked. His eyes fell on the headline of the prophet, and he frowned, quickly reading the article.

"Blimey, Shackbolt!" He exclaimed, once the food had cleared his mouth. "That's got to be breaking some law, hasn't it? You can't force people to marry each other, right?" He checked. Hermione sighed in exasperation. She loved Harry dearly, but she did wish he'd pull his head out of the clouds-or away from Ginny's-once in a while and find out what was going on in the real world.

"Since when do you care about laws?" She shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Since you started making them? Oh, wait, you still don't." He smirked.

"Atta girl, 'Mione. But seriously, did you know about this?" He asked, nodding to the paper. She huffed.

"No I didn't," she said, knowing her voice sounded rather prim. Harry's eyes widened, but he wisely let it drop.

"I suppose the only way we're going to find out what's going on is to find out ourselves," she sighed. "Ron and Ginny coming over here to Apparate, too?" She asked, glancing at the clock. It was nearly eight, and she hated being late. Very often, Ron, Harry and Ginny would come over to her flat- they lived only minutes apart- to Apparate. Because she was a cursebreaker, her apartment was one of the few places one could Apparate from into the ministry. And because of the war-hero status, the Ministry usually looked the other way when Harry, Ron and Ginny used it too. He shook his head.

"No. Gin was up early to go out and chase down some Dark artefacts, and"-he grimaced-"I may or may not have put a spell on Ron's office last night preventing him from unlocking the door."

"Harry!" She exclaimed, fighting a smile.

"It's not my fault!" He said defensively. "If he would just do some sodding work every now and again and stop snogging Lavender, I wouldn't have to do it!" Hermione bit back a smile, and shook her head at her best friend's antics.

"Well then. Shall we?" He made her a rather over the top bow, and grinned.

"After you, madam."

"Ministry of Magic," she said, concentrated for a moment, and then felt the familiar, slightly nauseous feeling that accompanied Apparating. Moments later she was standing in the bustling Ministry foyer next to Harry.

"I love that," he said, grinning. "Who knew Hermione Granger would abuse her privilege in such a manner," he drawled, and she gave him an elbow in the ribs.

"Shut up," she said, trying to fight another smile.

"Will you walk with me to let Ron out?" He asked, his tone almost begging. "Please, 'Mione, he really did sound violent, and I'm not quite sure how to do the reversing spell properly-" She sighed.

"Fine, but I'm not pulling you two off each other again. Nor healing your injuries afterwards."

"Fair enough," he conceded, and they stopped at Ron's office.

"Ron?" Hermione called, and a voice was heard from within.

"Hermione? Thank god! The git locked me in again!" Ron paused. "Is he out there with you? Did he set you up to this?" She rolled her eyes.

"Ron, just step away from the door. I have to try a few spells on it, Harry doesn't quite know what he did to it."

"What did you say that for?" Harry groaned.

"Harry!" Ron roared. "You wait till I get out there, I'll feed you to a Hippogriff! And what do you mean, you don't know what you did to the door, you great big hairy git, you're going to"-Hermione mouthed a "sorry" to a few passing Aurors, and with a well-practiced flick of her wand, the door swung open and Ron came crashing forwards, having not heeded her advice to stand back. Ron straightened out, flicking his violent hair out of his eyes, giving her a brilliant smile.

"Thanks, 'Mione!" He exclaimed, and gave her a quick hug, but then scowled upon seeing Harry.

"Three times in the last month," he hissed, and in typical Ron-fashion, tackled Harry to the ground.

"Hermione, d'you want me to separate them?" Dean asked, winking at her. Harry and Ron fighting was a fairly regular occurrence around here, she could see some of their colleagues already placing bets. Glancing at the chart, she saw that Ron's odds were two-to-one, and felt slightly sorry for Harry. She shook her head with a smile.

"No, I might just let them go at it for a while," she told him with a cheerful smile. "I've got work to catch up on. Hopefully they'll have calmed down in an hour or so." Smiling to herself, she walked down the corridor to her own office, which was as usual neat and color-coordinated. Paintings of muggle and wizard artwork adorned the place which was decorated with cranberry and gold furnishings- she had always loved the Gryffindor colors. There was a letter lying unopened on her mahogany desk, and so, curious, she crossed to open it. It had a ministry seal and looked very official, so she slit it open with her wand and sat back in her chair to read it.

Ms Granger,

You are aware of the new ministry policy of Matching for unmarried wizards and witches of 17-45 years of age. Your own matching ceremony will take place on the 18th of September, at 6pm sharp, along with all those other wizards and witches of surnames from A-H. Attendance to this ceremony is compulsory. More information will be provided for you in the days to come.

Regards,

The Ministry of Magic.

"The eighteenth," Hermione murmured. That was only a week away. They certainly weren't taking this new policy lightly, then. She rubbed her temples, for the first time in her life, unsure what to think. Hermione was a free spirit, that much was certain- the idea of people telling her what to do had always irritated her. Many had seen her as the goody-two-shoes of the Golden Trio, and perhaps for a time she had been, but many people didn't realize that her approach to rules was that they should act as guidance only, and that sometimes, had to be broken. But to be told who to marry? Who she had to spend the rest of her life with? Perhaps, for a greater good, for a purpose higher than herself, she could manage it. Suddenly, her door burst open and an older, graying wizard by the name of McMathews came wheezing into sight.

"Miss Granger," he panted, slightly out of breath. Hermione rose out of habit, trying to keep her irritation that he could not even knock at bay.

"Yes, sir?"

"They-they need you down in the courts. A trial is taking place and the cursebreaker called in sick. The require somebody to ensure the accused is not under any curses." Her interest spiked all of a sudden. A trial? Well, that was something she didn't do everyday.

"Alright, I'm coming," she said, pocketing her wand and following the man down into the depths of the Ministry where only the most secretive trials took place.

"Tell me, sir," she began curiously. "Exactly whose trial is this?" She asked. In response, the man paled and gulped noticeably, pushed the door open for her, and was then gone.

"Ms. Granger," the deep voice of the Chief Warlock called out. "Please, come in." Hermione stepped inside the dark, cold room hesitantly, and her gaze was drawn quickly to the accused's seat. Her stomach sank unpleasantly as her eyes fell on one person she had never expected to see again in her entire life. His tall, lanky frame filled the seat as he lounged in it, his ice-cold eyes never once leaving her own.

Draco Malfoy.

She was shocked. Not just that he was here, but that he seemed so…different. So different, and yet so much the same. Gone was the skinny, vampire-like Malfoy who had teased her mercilessly throughout her childhood. Gone was the lanky, moody teenager. Malfoy was taller, broad-shouldered and more tanned. There was a grim, almost old expression in his face, which looked almost haunted. Lastly, he was devastatingly, undeniably handsome in a cold, chiseled kind of way, and that attractiveness was only accentuated by the half-sneer that he seemed to wear on a permanent basis.

Somehow, Hermione managed to get over her initial shock and turned her back on the man who appraised her coldly to nod briskly at the Chief Warlock.

"Yes, Sir?" She asked politely, clenching her hands into fists to stop herself from trembling. The salt-and-pepper haired man smiled encouragingly at her.

"Go on, Hermione." Steeling herself, she turned to face him again, summoning some of her old Gryffindor fire so she didn't shrink away from the intense, silent gaze. After a moment, she relaxed into the magic and nonverbally used the most powerful curse detector spell she could summon, concentrating hard. He flinched noticeably when the magic hit him- it was often painful, and Hermione could care less- but his expression changed to a sneer as the magic searched through him, finally returning a slight silver haze that, combined with the dark shadows cast upon his face, made him look somewhat like an avenging angel.

"Nothing," Hermione spoke quietly after some time. "There are no spells cast upon him."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger," the Warlock said. "You will stay for the remainder of the trial."

"What is this, a fucking circus?" Malfoy drawled, speaking for the first time. His hard gaze flashed from the Warlock to Hermione. "She leaves," he spat.

"You are not in any position to be making demands, Mr. Malfoy," the warlock said chillingly. "Ms. Granger, sit at the back, please." Hermione obeyed, more than a little satisfied that the Chief Warlock had put Malfoy back in his sodding place, and the trial immediately began. She attempted to follow the proceedings as best she could as the Wizegamot fired accusations at Malfoy, who remained silent or answered with one-word replies. She noticed sourly that at least half of the Wizegamot were agreeing with Malfoy, defending him vehemently. Probably because his family owns them, she thought bitterly. He'll never get half of what he deserves. Without realizing it, Hermione was pulled back to her memories of Hogwarts, of the wonderful, bittersweet years she had spent there, and finally the last battle that had left their side nearly destroyed but ultimately victorious. Victory could not have come at a higher price, she thought to herself sadly. Her thoughts were interrupted with the banging of the gavel.

"Silence!" Somebody shouted irritably. "The evidence for and against Mr Malfoy's guilt has thus been presented." One wizard stood up, straightening his dark blue robes gravely and turning to address the group.

"Mr. Malfoy was coerced into obedience to Voldemort," he said quietly. "He is still young, and his choices were not his own. It has been proven that Lucius Malfoy used the Cruciatus curse on him many times. Mr. Malfoy should be accepted back into our society. Now is not a time for us to make an example of anyone. Now is a time for forgiveness, for peace and healing. There are greater evils to defeat yet." A loud chorus of "hear, hear's" filled the room, and Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. Impossible. They were not about to let Malfoy walk free, were they?

"Very well," the Warlock sighed. "All in favor of Draco Malfoy's immediate release from all charges, please raise your hands." A dead silence fell over the room as hands were raised, some slowly, others with utter confidence. Hermione tried to add up the number of hands, but many people pulled theirs down quickly, as if they were ashamed of having voted for him.

"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty," announced the Chief Warlock. "Twenty for, eighteen against. Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go," he told him, and Hermione could almost hear him smirk as the chamber filed out of the double doors in a hurry, as if they didn't want to look see any more of Malfoy then they had to. Her temper quickly rising at the injustice and corruption, Hermione grabbed her bag and strode quickly out of the room, using her shoulder to push past Malfoy. He chuckled.

"Going somewhere, mudblood?" He spat. The old insult stung rather a lot more than it should have, but Hermione kept her famous cool like a master.

"About as far away from you as I can possibly manage," she returned coldly. She intended to walk away right that moment, but something inside her, something about him provoked her to swing around and face him, her eyes blazing. Maybe it was the fact that he was the one who had held the greatest hand in Dumbledore's death. Maybe it was that he had been weak- far, far too weak to choose either side. Whichever it was, she found herself unable to simply stride off, to be the bigger person. She was known for having an ironclad hold on her temper, but when it did get out of hand, those in the firing range usually regretted it dearly. This was one of these moments, and instead of counting to ten or petting Crookshanks, she gave in to her emotions.

"You, Malfoy, are an arrogant, evil bastard, and you will pay for everything you have done, regardless of what they have said," she snapped. "You're a coward, you're a traitor, you're a murderer, and I can't wait until you have to face up to that," she said fiercely. His eyes became cold and he stepped towards her. Suddenly, Hermione was very afraid. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized he was much bigger than her five-foot-six frame. Suddenly, her outburst didn't seem so clever, but she'd be loathe to admit that.

"You think you know everything, Granger," he hissed. "You think you know everything about me. Here's an idea, you stupid girl," he snarled. "Maybe you don't know everything. Maybe, if you tried to use that brain everyone seems to think you have, you'd realize that I already have paid for my mistakes," he said coldly. And without so much as another word, he turned on his heel and walked away from her, leaving her with a hammering heart and the realization that there was much, much more to this man than she had ever realized.


Please tell me what you thought, but remember this is my first HP fanfiction and Draco/Hermione pairing. Nevertheless, any feedback would be welcomed. ;) Have a lovely day!

WideEyedDreamer01 xx