AN: This is an auction prize from the help_the_south community on livejournal. The winner of this auction asked for a Marriage Law fic where Hermione ended up marrying her friend, a clone of Tom Riddle. Except, I screwed up and I ended up making two different versions of the prize, a cracky version and a more serious version.

This is the serious version. Just don't take it too seriously.

Hermione was not surprised that the anti-Muggle marriage legislation passed; sure she and others had tried desperately to strike it down while it was before it could voted upon and even now she knew she was would be going to court to try to fight it. But still, she was not surprised. After Voldemort's defeat, after all the funerals, Hermione had known something like this would happen—there were too many lost. The wizarding world had lost a vast number of its population. Scientifically, she knew there was plenty of people left to rebuild without tainting any genetic pool without inbreeding—although that had never bothered the wizarding world before. They might have to reach out to the other, less damaged, areas of wizarding society to thrive again, but it could be done.

It would never happen though; Hermione knew that when the first rumblings of anti-Mugglism began to bubble up in the most damaged places. Magical blood, even that muggle born witches and wizards, was too precious to waste now. There had been a law passed already proclaiming that during "this state of grave emergency" that wizards and witches should marry inside the community rather than Muggles. Despite some fierce opposition against it, it swept through without a single change to it. It was right then that Hermione knew that this was coming.

Harry nearly turned purple in rage as she read it aloud in the newspaper. "'Due to this, our most severe and dire circumstances, all marriage licenses disrupted through Ministry of Magic will be issued to couples with magical blood in both persons. All marriages taking place without these Ministry disrupted licenses will be considered null and void in the eyes of wizarding law'," she paused, dropping the paper back to the table. "It just goes on after that about penalties for people caught breaking the law by creating fake licenses and how to you can try to petition for a license if you have 'unique circumstances'."

"More like, 'if you have enough money to pay us off'," Ginny glared at the paper before reaching out to snag Harry's wrist as he tried to pace. "Harry, love, sit. It's too early to start pacing now."

"Besides," Hermione sighed as she reached for her espresso. "You'll set the people in the flat below you off again."

"They can piss off for all I care," Harry retorted. Ginny smirked, but swatted his arm good-naturedly all the same.

"Try not to swear when the baby comes or my parents will have our heads when curses are his first words," Ginny warned him as she tugged him into a chair. Harry's scowl fell off his face for a moment as he reached out to press his hand reverently over Ginny's still flat stomach. Hermione studiously ignored the golden warmth in both their faces and the ache swelling low in her own stomach. "Still, Hermione, you'll be taking the first case that comes to the court to fight this thing won't you?"

"I most certainly will," she answered, refusing to tell them of her doubts that she would succeed. The wizarding world was still half mad with grief and pain; finding a sympathetic ear in the press would be hard enough, let alone the courts. "At least you two won't have to worry," she added, managing a smile this time. Perhaps she didn't hide her negative feelings very well since they both sent her sympathetic looks. "However, I suggest we all prepare for more legislation like this."

All the same, she hadn't been prepared for this.

"'To improve the Ministry of Magic's image of a protective and pro-family government to help strength the magical community'," Ginny spit out furiously, hands shaking as she read the paper. "'all employees and affiliates of the Ministry who are not married are urged to do so. Remember, however, that-' Oh hex them all, Hermione they just end up talking about the past laws they passed and other nonsense. They're practically targeting you!"

Next to her, Harry couldn't have looked more devastated. Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand to comfort him, little good that it did.

"They can't do that, can they, Hermione?" Ginny asked, knuckles going white as she gripped the table.

"Not openly. But they can keep me from getting cases, can sabotage my attempts to talk to people who make legislation. They could smear my name so no one in their right minds would associate with me."

Her friends were stricken dumb in horror. She patted Harry's hand once more, but he quickly twisted his hand so he could clutch hers. "It's a good thing I've been doing mad things for so long—no one could accuse me of being in my right mind."

Ginny smiled approvingly, reaching out for Hermione's free hand. "Could accuse us you mean."

Hermione smiled back, but silently ached for the one person that should have been there by their sides. But then, if he were, this wouldn't be an (personal) issue and there would be one less grave marker in a churchyard.

The suitors came the next morning, frighteningly enough. Hermione would be shocked if half of them weren't old school friends, war comrades, or friendly coworkers. Still she was touched by their sympathies and loyalty they all expressed; she hugged or shook the hands of those dearest, politely thanked those that were really only there to try to cash in on her status, and gently sent them all on their ways. Some might try to hound her, like her political enemies no doubt try as well, for marriage, but she was resolute.

She had made an oath when she buried Ron; any wedding band to rest on her finger would be given with love, not for convenience. She had lost so much during the war—she wasn't about to lose her integrity after surviving that hell.

Which was part of the reason so was so shocked to see Tom waiting outside her office door once she returned from lunch.

Tom R. Tonks had appeared mysteriously after the final battle where Harry vanquished Voldemort. Few knew who he really was or from whence he came—but not Hermione. She was perfectly aware who he was.

After the battle, she followed Harry out into the Forbidden Forest, trudging along numbly as they stumbled back to the place Voldemort believed he managed to strike Harry down. Harry explained along the way of what had happened, what Dumbledore always meant to happen, and then of the strange vision he had after Voldemort attacked him. He talked of a pure, clean King's Cross, of talking to Dumbledore.

But more importantly of a small figure Harry had found.

"Dumbledore said I couldn't help him, but Hermione, I couldn't just leave him," Harry murmured insistently as he began to search the clearing. Hermione would have wondered if he was finally driven over the edge by their losses and grief. "It was just a baby, Hermione—even if it was him, I couldn't just leave him there. He deserved a second chance; after all, maybe things could be different this time. I would be there for him, if no one else."

"Harry," she said at last. "Who are you talking about?"

Harry ignored her and kept checking the short bushes at the edge of the clearing. "He and I are alike. He made bad choices, but if he had someone to-to stop him and help him then maybe it could be different. We all deserve second chances, right, Hermione?"

Second chances. No, she wanted to scream, because if Ron Weasley, who might be a prat but is still good, brave, and kind, doesn't get a chance at one then no one should. She didn't say that though. Instead she merely wandered over to him as he paused as he looked in a large clump of bushes. "Yes," she managed at last. "I suppose so."

And then Harry smiled at her and reached into the bushes. To her shock, he pulled out a sleeping dark haired baby boy. "Oh good," he announced quietly. "He's got all his skin on at least."

She ended up nearly throwing up later when he finally explained who he was; Tom was a discarded fragment of Voldemort's soul, but one that had been attached to and nurtured by Harry for sixteen years. He swore her and those few others that knew to complete secrecy, all of them under Unbreakable Vows. In the end, Andromeda Tonks stepped up and took him in; Harry was still too shaken by the war to raise a baby, but in the end no one asked questions, although few would have dared trifle with Andromeda Tonks.

Tom R. Tonks was for the most part a bright, energetic boy who flourished on the love and care showered on him by his care givers and those around him. He had a cherished playmate and brother in Ted Tonks, a firm but quietly doting guardian in Andromeda, but most of all he had Harry who loved him intensely. However, tucked away from the prying eyes of the wizarding world, Tom was far from normal. He grew at an accelerated rate; by three he could pass for nine, by four thirteen, and at five for nearly seventeen.

It was on his fourth birthday that they told him the whole truth—Harry had firmly insisted on Tom knowing at least some facts, and he grew knowing that there was something about him that sat him apart from others. Still, he was ill prepared for the truth. Hermione could still remember his howls of horror, sorrow, shame, and anger. It took an hour for Harry and Andromeda to calm him, and for a week Hermione was worried if perhaps they should have never told him.

In the end, Tom came out changed—but not for ill as Hermione feared. Perhaps Harry managed to convince him that he earned his life and his second chance, but Tom was determined to never be like Voldemort. He began to fiercely champion the rights of downtrodden magical creatures, loudly scream for tolerance and mutual respect; he even sought Hermione out before he turned five, begging her to teach him in magical law.

"I want to be like you—I want to fight for the rights of-of those who can't defend themselves and can't be heard. I want to make people realize that they have just as much worth as any wizard." He explained until at last he admitted the truth. "I can't fix all of the wrongs that that—that monster did. But I won't be like him."

She had been struck silent for a moment before Harry's words drifted back to her. "We all deserve second chances, right, Hermione?" She agreed. He finished his courses so fast his tutors were shocked nearly silent and then she took him on as an apprentice. When he finished, it wasn't just Harry beaming with pride. Since then he became a persuasive opponent in any case he handled, fighting so fiercely for the same unprivileged people that Hermione fought for that he earned the nickname "the bulldog". His aging finally slowed by the time he was seven, looking a very handsome twenty four years old.

Seven years old, utterly brilliant with his vastly older mind and maturity—he had quite a few witches eyeing him since he joined Hermione in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Today, however, she practically had to wade through them just to get to her office door where the group had him cornered. He smiled gratefully for the rescue as she shooed the lustful and admiring gaggle of witches. "Hi," he squeaked at first, blanched, and then tried again in a noticeably deeper voice. "Hello. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile back—those witches must have done a number on the poor dear before she saved him. She took pity and didn't tease him as she unlocked her office and invited him in. "It seems you have gained a few more admirers, Tom," she observed, allowing herself just this little tease.

He swallowed and shuffled to the chair opposite her silently; she paused, glancing up in confusion. Was the ever eloquent and charismatic Tom R. "the bulldog" Tonks looking awkward? And just from one joke? Will wonders never cease, she mused quietly. She felt bad after a moment as he opened his mouth twice to start to speak before frowning and glancing away—normally, Tom was a treat to be around, and they usually easily fell into conversation that ran the gamut from their mutual family and friends to politics to frustrations to personal hobbies or views. It was part of Tom's charm—a charm that he knew he shared with Voldemort but one he could never conquer or destroy. And, to be frank, it would have pained her to see that it might have actually gone.

"No doubt," she began, breaking the silence mercifully. "They've heard the news and are looking for a respectable official for a husband."

There was a flash of what she thought might have been gratitude in his dark eyes, but his jaw tensed. "Got it in one. They know that I'm in a fix now."

Hermione sighed, leaning back in her chair. "One that all we unmarried officials are in now." She paused to smile. "Tom, it's usually such a joy to find someone willing to cut to the important part of any conversation, but will you forgive me for not being a particularly pleased by this talk?"

He nodded, looking as pained as she felt. "Only if you forgive me the same—and forgive me for not giving it up. Hermione," he added, like an apology.

"I would expect nothing less of you," she replied, reaching up to rub gentle circles into her scalp as her head began to pound. "What do you think of the legislation?"

"It's utter bollocks."

Her head shot up in shock.

He had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he scratched his neck nervously. "Sorry. I was just talking to Un—to Harry at lunch. He was very passionate about it and we might have agreed a little too much."

She raised an eyebrow. "How much is too much?"

"Well, I don't think we're going to be allowed back into the Leaky Cauldron for awhile," he answered, his smile just a little too wide to not be cheeky.

She shook her head at him, but ended up chuckling anyway. "You two cause just as much trouble as he and Ron did."

Tom went quiet for a moment and she paused as well, surprised to find the ever constant ache didn't clutch her heart like a clamp. Finally he cleared his throat. "Hermione…can I ask what you think of it?"

She nearly snorted. "I think I feel exactly as you do on this. The question is," she sighed, shifting to one side. "What do we do next?"

"We have to fight it," Tom answered so fast that Hermione had to force herself to not jerk in surprise. "I can see so many old pure blood fingerprints on these laws, I could puke. Either they're trying to drive good people like you out or they're making space so they can worm their own people into posts. I can't believe Shacklebolt allowed this to happen."

"His hands were tied," she murmured, drumming her fingernails against her desk. "Like ours are."

"Hermione, don't tell me you intend to allow this to happen?"

She glanced up; once again she was surprised by his reaction. His eyes were wide, but his jaw was tense. "Beg your pardon?"

"We can't just let them do this—they're trying to scare us out of here, trying to silence us. We can't let them."

Mildly stunned by the ferocity of passion, Hermione tried to contain her smile. "You remind me so much of me when I was still at Hogwarts."

He smiled back to her. "I take that as a high compliment."

Now she really couldn't stop her smile; instead, she merely chuckled and then bit back a sigh. "Alright, Tom. Tell me your plan."

He surprised her once again, however, this time it wasn't by the fervor of his indignation and belief, but rather by how he stammered into silence and began to examine his shows as if he truly was just a child. She waited in concerned confusion as he hemmed and hawed over his words. Finally, he looked up with a thick blush over his cheeks and cleared his throat before speaking. "Hermione, marry me."

It was a good thing she wasn't standing; she would have probably dropped to the floor in shock. For several long moments, Hermione found herself staring at the handsome young man across from her, his words rattling in her ears.

Hermione.

Marry.

Marry.

Hermione.

Hermione, marry me.

Since joining the Ministry, she—when she felt like being a touch overdramatic—would often ask no one in particular if the world had gone mad. Well, it certainly seemed to have now.

Still stunned, she found her voice. "…Tom. Did you just ask me to marry you?"

He nodded. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"That's what I thought," she murmured, sitting up slowly only to find herself sliding back down in her chair the next moment. "You mean… You want me to marry you… to keep our jobs? Just for both our own conveniences?"

He brightened instantly. "I—yes! Yes, exactly—Hermione, we can't let them run us out. We won't be able to help anyone then—and, and we," he paused, going interestingly red. "We like each other, yeah? Well, it wouldn't be bad then. We'd help each other out and then we could help everyone else out too." His spiel running down, he slowly frowned when he saw her lack of a reaction. "What do you say…Hermione?"

She gazed at him for a few moments before looking down to her hands. They were good hands to be sure—fine, steady, they were hands that helped defeat one of the greatest dark wizards of the age, they helped tear down unjust laws like this one now, and they helped pull herself up out of the devastation she experienced after the war. She'd made an oath about those hands and fingers.

A ring for love, not of convenience, to honor Ron's memory and for her own sake.

She looked up at him. "Tom," she began, but paused when she saw the bizarre expression on his face. "Tom? Something the matter?"

"I… wait, Hermione, let me," he stumbled to a pause and took a deep breath. "I… I don't want to marry you like that. Not for convenience sake, but," he licked his lips and went on. "But for my own. I-I've fancy you, have for years, and I know this is sudden and stupid and you'll probably think this is complete bollocks, but please marry me."

I wonder if he hit me with some sort of confundus charm, she mused wryly. I seem easily struck silent with him today. All the same, a thought began to circle around her head, playing delightedly with her mind. A ring for love, a ring for love, a ring for your own sake.

She was still staring, so he rambled on. "I… I talked with Uncle—I mean, I talked with Harry about this. He told me about… your promise to yourself. And I feel the same way." She blinked in surprise, but he kept going. "I don't want to use people just because it makes things easier, even if it helps others. I'm won't use people to further my own goals because…"

Because that's exactly what Voldemort would do. Hermione gaped. "Oh, Tom, you don't still think you're going to turn out like him, do you?"

It was Tom's turn to look surprised, but he looked away sheepishly after a moment, interlacing his fingers together nervously. "…he was me. I am him. No matter what, there's always a chance that I could still turn out like him." His face was completely serious and somber; Hermione wondered how long that thought had been gnawing away at him. Before she can think to reconsider, she stood and walked around her desk to take his hands in hers, holding them firmly, and running her thumbs over his knuckles gently. He gaped up at her. "Hermione?"

It took her a few moments, but she found the words she needed. "Harry told me something once too, you know. 'We all deserve second chances, right, Hermione?' That's what he said that day when he decided to take you in." Tom was dumbstruck, eyes growing wider with each word until at last she wondered if he forgotten to blink. She smiled. "And he was right. I'm sure he's told you what Dumbledore once told him—it's our choices and our actions, not our origins or pasts, that decide who we are."

Finally, he managed a weak smile. "I… think he might have mentioned that."

We all deserve second chances. She squeezed his hands.

Ron, I've earned a second chance too, right?

She took a breath and smiled. "The legislation didn't give an exact date to when employees have to be married, right?"

Tom eyed her warily, confused by the change in topic. "No, but you know they'll won't leave you alone for long."

She nodded. "Then there's still time—I have tonight off. I know a bistro in London—muggle London—that's good. We can go there and talk some more."

Slowly, he stood, eyes still cautious but something glinted in their depths. Hermione wondered if it was hope as he turned his hands about to hold hers. "Is that a yes?"

She squeezed his fingers. "It's not a no."

They smiled at each other.