02 Sept 1998
It was a night like any other. The gentle snores of the other Slytherin girls made Pansy feel less lonely as she stared at the water pushing mightily against the window. The clock above the door said 3 o' clock and Pansy glanced at the empty bottle on her nightstand. Silently she stuck it under her bed and laid her head down on her pillow. Gingerly she closed her eyes and started counting.
She managed to count until eighty before she felt her body drop and she floated away into a dreamless sleep. A dreamless sleep is much like fainting or blacking out in that, you never know what has happened while you were unconscious and you never how long you've been out for. It's a bit like giving your mind a straitjacket while your body goes to a spa. Perhaps that's why Pansy enjoyed it so much, it meant that she got a break.
Unfortunately she seemed to enjoy it so much that she had a tendency to oversleep, much like today. She shot upright with a start when she realised that the sun had already risen as well as most of the dorm. Smelly, unkempt and heavy-eyed, she was every bit the woman she tried not to be. Still, she had no time to groom herself and bounded up the stairs to the great hall hoping to find at least one pastry intact.
Luckily there were many intact and she stopped for a second to consider the idea that they may be poisoned before her eyes fell on the newspapers in her gobsmacked bench mates' hands. The Slytherin table was fairly quiet in comparison to the Gryffindor table. She watched as Harry Potter crumpled his copy of the paper and threw it at Ron. He began saying something that seemed to interest the entire house.
'No wonder he's so calm, he'll probably get out of it' Pansy thought while slumping down and shoving a spoonful of dried fruit and nuts into her mouth. She chewed for a minute before she attempted to lean over Greengrass's shoulder to learn about what had captivated the school so greatly. After catching a glimpse of the words 'Law', 'Pureblood' and 'two years', her attention was grabbed by the arrival of the minister of magic.
On the podium, the minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood tall as he began to address the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Kingsley began.
"As you may have read about in this morning's issue of the daily Prophet, the ministry of magic has decided to implement measures that will ensure that the diminishing wizarding population will thrive in later generations. Unfortunately all of you are required to make that a reality." He continued, ignoring the glares he was receiving from many teenagers in the room as well as the exasperated sighs emitted by Minerva McGonagall.
"For the rest of this year you will spend your time in co-ed dormitories with your assigned partners. This means you will have the time and the opportunity to experience married life that we desire you have. If after a year you decide, you don't want that life, it's okay, you don't have to follow the ministry's plans. Unfortunately you will still have to find a partner and have a child by the time you're 26." Kingsley looked apologetic.
"I'm sorry but you're our only hope. This whole marriage thing, is just the quickest most non-invasive way of achieving a goal that will benefit the community as a whole. Believe me, I've fought alongside a good few of you, I wouldn't be standing here and requesting you to partake in this experiment if I didn't believe it was the best way to do this. That's all this is, an experiment, a trial for the real world we are going to have to live in." Kingsley looked assuringly at the crowd.
McGonagall butted in, in an attempt to end the speech, "If you all will follow the appointed Ministry Officials to your left, you will be taken to your new dorms for the sorting ceremony."
"Ah, yes! The sorting ceremony! Just like the sorting hat the ministry has had in its possession a scarf which has the ability to partner people who are compatible by personality and such," said Kingsley.
"If you think about it, it's like one of those muggle dating shows. It's all very exciting and romantic!" exclaimed Mr Weasley from the shadows by the wall.
"Oh dad!" groaned Ron before Harry shushed him.
Glumly, the students shuffled out of the great hall towards the staircases.
A short man with blond hair started to wave his hands in an elaborate gesture for them to follow him. They began what seemed like an endless trek upwards and then sidewards and then upwards again.
"Merlin, how are we going to advance the magical community if we're going to walking up all these bloody stairs everyday?" Pansy heard Ron moaning in front of her.
"Mr Weasley! There will be no procreation under my watch! You have until you turn twenty-six!" Professor McGonagall called out to him, earning giggles and sniggers from many of the seventh and eighth year Hogwarts students.
"Right, here we are!" The man called weakly causing only the people directly behind him to stop while the others came crashing into them. Once everyone caught their breath and rubbed their sore body parts, the sorting began.
The man conjured a chair and unveiled a scarf from inside his coat. The group of students parted like the red sea for his first victim, Hannah Abbot.
Hannah shook surprising little as the scarf snaked around her neck and head eventually draping itself over her chest, close to her heart. Then its eyes blinked and a course, grandmotherly voice called out, "Neville Longbottom!"
Pansy glanced around and found Longbottom grinning ear to ear as he slowly managed to shuffle past the crowd. She found the rest of the sorting boring and predictable, that is until the man reached Granger.
Hermione Granger expected her match to be Ronald Weasley or perhaps another Griffindor boy, at the very least he would be a Ravenclaw. Jaws all around the room dropped when the scarf bellowed out Draco Malfoy's name.
The boy in question appeared to be attempting to blend in with the wall behind him until Professor McGonagall threatened to walk over and drag him to Hermione. Hermione had already left the hallway in search of her room and most likely a bathroom to have a little cry in.
The rest of the room waited with bated breath for their turns in the fear that they might be in a similar situation to the girl who knew everything but what to do in the present situation.
Pansy started counting again and reached 60 before her name was called and she lumbered over to the stool.
The scarf began to whisper to her, "Hmmm…Interesting, you seem more anxious than the last. You've got potential girl if only you had used it. But what's in your heart? Have you ever felt real love?"
Pansy hesitated in answering before the scarf screamed out a match she deemed worse than Granger's, simply because she had to live with this.
"Ronald Weasley! Do I need to remind you of what I told Mr Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall was the only person in the room with their wits around them. The rest of the room seemed to have their eyes popped out as Ron walked over to her. He sneered and she shivered and lead the way through to the rooms.
'At least it's only one year' Pansy thought.