Author's Note:

Five Things You Need to Know:

1. I don't own Harry Potter

2. Erm... Hi? Yes, I'm still alive. I took a bit of an unplanned ..break... in my story-writing when I moved to France and tried to adjust to my life here. And in case you were wondering, France and the United States? Way different. So then I finally came back to writing the story and realized I didn't quite like the direction I had been taking it and so I rewrote some bits, but I don't know if it fits and then I started writing another story and now I feel like I don't like how I did the POV and I feel like their characters aren't consistent and it's too unrealistic and... you get the picture.

3. I could really use a second mind to bounce ideas off of, and maybe a third.

4. Anyways, here's an updated three chapters, with a fourth coming very soon! Please don't review and tell me what you think.

Yes... that was a pitiful attempt at reverse psychology.

Bonus 6th point:

6. I really love lists.

On to the story!

"Granger, you're kidding me, right?"

Hermione sighed as she began rubbing her temples.

"No, unfortunately I'm not kidding you, Malfoy." She sighed again. "Though I wish I was."

"I don't believe you."

She didn't bother responding.

"Surely you can't really mean to say that the Ministry of Bloody Magic is attempting to force us into marriage!"

Hermione dropped her hands into her lap and looked up at the raging wizard in front of her, a serious tone entering her voice as she said, "That's exactly what I mean, Malfoy. And there's nothing you or I can do about it."

"Of course there is, you silly witch!" he sneered. "What's their price?"

"Price?" She asked, a single eyebrow rising on her forehead.

"Yes, you heard me. Price. How much will they accept in order to make an... exception?"

"Malfoy, you can't just buy off the ministry in order to get what you want," she said, exasperated.

"Of course I can. We always have. It's like they make up these stupid laws just to get our money!"

"Not this time they haven't," she explained. "Kingsley specifically told me that no amount of money you offer would get either of us out of this. And you're lucky I'm telling you now and you didn't find out your fate in the Daily Prophet."

"Oh come on, Granger!" he whined. "You're a war-hero! Surely you can pull some strings or something!"

Hermione stood suddenly, finally angered at Malfoy's persistent complaints. "No, Malfoy, I cannot pull strings just because I helped save the wizarding world from a fate worse than death. I hate this as much as you do. No, I hate it more than you do. So whether you like it or not, we're getting married within three months or having both of our wands snapped."

"Wands snapped? Would they really do that?" Malfoy asked, appalled at the thought.

"Yes," Hermione stated, gathering her things to leave the office, "they would. And I would have you know, I refuse to lose my wand and leave the wizarding world. That leaves us with one other option. Send me an owl when you come to your senses."

"But Granger, there must-"

"Goodbye, Malfoy!"

Hermione then stormed out of her office, informing her secretary to make sure he left, and by golly to call security if he didn't. Hermione needn't have bothered. If she hadn't been walking at such a furious pace, she would have seen that Malfoy stormed out of her office only moments after she did. However, she was busy fuming at the fact that the Ministry had put her into this position in the first place. She had found out earlier that morning, and hadn't completed a lick of work because of it.

Her heels clicked angrily as she marched through the Ministry of Magic towards the floo network.

Minister Shacklebolt had called her into his office that morning. It wasn't terribly unusual. Ever since things had begun to settle down after the war, the Golden Trio had taken an active part in restoring the wizarding world to its former glory. The Minister particularly valued Hermione's knowledge and insight, and frequently called on her for advice, despite her young age. He did not, however, call upon her for this.

She huffed as she thought about the fact that this was possibly the most important decision Minister Shacklebolt had ever made, and he didn't even bother to consult her.

"Miss Granger," he had begun that morning. "I understand it that you're not seeing anyone at the moment?"

'What an odd thing to ask,' she remembered thinking.

"Well no, Minister. I'm not. Ron and I broke up almost a year ago and I work so much―" she paused. "Why do you ask?"

"I've decided to inform you of a new law before it reaches the presses. I'm afraid it will cause... a change in your life."

"A change? Have I heard of this law before? What is it?"

"As you know, the Ministry is currently facing many challenges due to the war. For one thing, we are concerned that Pureblood elitism will only fester and reappear again under a new dark lord." The Minister of Magic stood up and began pacing behind his desk.

"Well yes, but apart from education, there's hardly a thing that can be done about that, is there?" she asked, confused with where he was going.

Ignoring her question, he continued. "We're also concerned about the birth rates. Many have lost their loved ones, and many are afraid to marry, not knowing who they can and cannot trust."

The wheels were turning in Hermione's minds, but no amount of thought could have prepared her for what she heard next.

"We have determined that the solution to both of those problems is a marriage law."

Stunned silence filled the office as Kingsley stopped his pacing a moment to gauge her reaction. Hermione simply could not wrap her mind around it.

"Marriage law?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. She looked up at Kingsley, swallowed her ire, and said, "That's not a very funny joke, Minister."

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the battle of wills and wit which he knew was about to take place. Hermione Granger was the last person left on earth he would want to have that battle with.

"That's because it's not a joke."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to consider how she could have possibly misinterpreted what the Minister was telling her. Surely it was a misinterpretation, because a marriage law to solve the prejudice and low birth rates in the magical world was absurd. "Explain," she demanded.

As Kingsley explained in greater detail the concerns the ministry faced and the solution they came up with, Hermione's outrage only continued to rise.

"Minister, you can't be serious!" she said. "You're forcing marriage upon anyone between the ages of 17 and 30 to prevent discrimination? It's positively medieval!"

"What then, Miss Granger, do you suggest instead?" he demanded, desperation and anger tinging his voice.

"As I said earlier, education! We must teach the purebloods about muggleborns and vice versa. Once they understand each other, they will be more tolerant! Or if worse comes to worse, simply force them to spend time with one another! But marriage? It's ludicrous, unreasonable, senseless, preposterous, and absolutely idiotic!"

Kingsley sighed and sat down in his chair. "We've been attempting to educate people since before the first war, Miss Granger. We all know it didn't work. There are countless lives destroyed to prove it. We must do something more drastic."

"You said it meant change for me. What does this marriage law mean for me? Why are we having this meeting?"

"We've already arranged a marriage partner for you. As our country's most esteemed female hero, we're depending on you to set the example to prove that this will work."

"Who?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"You're lying."

Hermione then proceeded to battle it out with the Minister of Magic himself. Had she been anyone else, she would have been promptly evicted from the Ministry without a job. But she was Hermione Granger, and he needed her. Unfortunately for Hermione, no amount of threatening, pleading, or convincing would cause him to change his mind. She was to have the first Ministry arranged marriage that the wizarding world had ever experienced, and she was to make everyone else think that it was something to be desired.

Hermione pulled herself back to the present, grabbed a pinch of floo powder and stated, "Grimmauld Place," and stepped into the green, swirling flames to go talk to her best friends.

"Hermione! I was wondering when you'd sho-" Harry's half-finished sentence hung in the air as his, Ron, and Ginny's shocked faces took in Hermione's appearance.

"You look bloody awful!"

"Thanks, Ron. Ever the charmer, you are."

Hermione walked into the room and sank into a chair, exhaustion overtaking her.

"I'll get some tea," Ginny said, scurrying around before placing Hermione's favorite mug full of peppermint tea into her hand. She sniffed deeply, letting the comforting aroma calm her before she began her tale.

Her three friends had much of the same reaction as Hermione. They shouted and ranted and bellowed and blustered before they too sank into their chairs in hopelessness.

"So you've got to marry the ferret then?"

"Yes, there's no way out."

"But you can always divorce him later, can't you?" asked Harry, his ignorance about the wizarding world showing itself.

"No, Harry," Hermione shook her head. "Wizarding marriages are binding for life. There's no divorce, no way out."

"Blimey."

"Yeah."

"Three months?"

She nodded. "It's supposed to be in the Daily Prophet soon. It will be announced that Malfoy and I are the first match. The rest are to be made sometime over the next several months."

"Do they have any rhyme or reason for how they're matching people? I mean, how did you get stuck with him?" Ginny asked.

"Well for everyone else they'll make matches based on blood status and questionnaires they're sending out tomorrow. For Malfoy and I... well it was just logical wasn't it?"

"How do you mean?" asked Ron, not seeing any logic in it whatsoever.

"Well Malfoy is a notorious Pureblood, coming from one of the most ancient lines there is. He's like the most famous, elite, and eligible pureblood there is. And also the most dangerous. They knew I'd be able to handle him, and it's not very likely that they could make a match more opposite than Malfoy and I. They're hoping I'll make it work out so it will be an example to everyone else who complains."

"That's true," Harry said. "Slytherin Prince. Gryffindor Princess. Pureblood. Muggleborn. Death Eater. Order Member. But are you sure he won't try to hurt you, Hermione?"

"Well honestly? No, I'm not," she said, examining her fingernails. Her tone of voice suggested that the thought had already crossed her mind. "But certainly I can always keep my guard up. And if anything ever were to happen to me, he'd have the entire Ministry of Magic investigating him within minutes. With that in mind, I think I'll be safe."

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right," Ron stated. "But we're going to bloody kill him if he tries anything!"

"Of course," Hermione said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"We'll be here for you, Hermione. Always," said Harry, standing up to give her a comforting embrace.

"Thanks," she sniffed. "I still feel as if it can't be real. Like I'll wake up from a dream any moment."

"It's no dream. I pinched myself to check."

"Yeah, I did that about eight-hundred times already too," she cracked a small smile. Her face became serious once more as she turned to Ron. "You know it means you'll be matched too, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "Yeah, I'd thought of that."

After a few more minutes of chatting, Hermione picked herself up from the chair and said, "Well, I think I'll go wallow in self-pity for a while tonight. I'll keep you posted. Malfoy still hasn't agreed to this whole marriage yet."

After arriving at her own flat, Hermione changed into her most cozy sweat pants and made herself comfortable on the balcony. It was the place she always went whenever she had to think.

Her mind travelled back to the man she was to marry. She only knew him as a boy, teasing, sneering, hurting. Even though his insults had stopped hurting after fourth year, he was still certainly not anyone she wanted to spend more time around. They would never be able to agree on anything.

Hermione had dreams of liberating house elves, of living a simple lifestyle so that she could give to others. She pictured herself some day settling into a small but comfortable house somewhere in the country, where she would live with her doting husband and adorable children and occasional charity projects. And hopefully she would eventually stop being in the public eye so much as well. For some reason, she couldn't see Malfoy accepting such a lifestyle.

All in one day, she had to let go of all her dreams. And most importantly, she had to let go of her dream for love. It seemed her heart ripped in two at the thought. True, she hadn't been actively seeking love.

But she hadn't tossed the idea out the window either. She was only nineteen after all! She was far too young to get serious and settle down!

Hermione grabbed her wand and accio'd a tub of ice-cream and a spoon towards herself. She would eat her sorrows tonight. She would wallow in self-pity. She would cry and she would laugh at the irony, that this was happening to her because of all she had done for the world.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow she would pull it all together. She would say goodbye to dreams and goodbye to love, and she would accept her life for what it now was. Plus there had to be some benefits in the marriage. For one, she would be Lady Malfoy. Not that the title in itself was what she desired. But it would give her power. Power for change. Power to free houselves, starting at Malfoy Manor itself. And she would have money, enough money to support every charity in the world probably. But she would start with the war victims. She grinned about the thought that she would hand out all of Malfoy's money to people he considered lower than himself.

And she could still work. In fact, she would work so much that she would hardly see her husband. Perhaps they would even live in different houses, only making appearances together every now and then to make the world at large believe that they were happily in love.

Yes, this was a miserable situation, but there's a silver lining in everything. She would make it work.

Tomorrow.