Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-A-Partner19! This wouldn't be here without MrsColette, my collaborative partner for this. She's amazing, and her writing is awesome, so check her out on here and AO3!
Our story won a few awards: First Place for Overall Favorite, First Place for Best Plot Development, Runner Up for Most Creative Use of Prompt, Runner Up for Best Relationship Development, and Runner Up for Best Overall Collaborative Piece! Thank you to those who voted for us!
Note: Post-War!AU, Canon Divergence, Warning for anxiety and non-graphic violence
It seemed like all of wizarding Britain under the age of twenty-seven was gathered in the Crooked Crone on the night of August 18th. It had started as a joke, with Blaise and Adrian planning a night to meet and get blazing drunk before unsealing the envelopes that would seal their fates. Harry had heard about it during their weekly pickup Quidditch game from Adrian and suggested they invite Seamus and Dean, who were also terrified of what their envelopes might hold. Seamus told Neville, Luna, and Padma at lunch in Hogsmeade, and Luna shared the news with Ginny and Hermione during tea. Despite herself, Hermione mentioned it to Draco at work on Thursday, and the gossipy git had hexed the masterminds for leaving him out, ensuring word spread quickly. By the time the Ministry owls were due to arrive, there were close to seventy witches and wizards crammed into the Crone.
Draco stumbled over to where Theo, Blaise, and Marcus were standing by the bar, throwing his arms around Theo and the dark Italian.
"Why aren't you as sloshed as the rest of us, Nott?" Draco slurred, slightly drunk at the horror of what was to come.
"There is nothing we can do to change it now, Malfoy, so there is no reason to act like a petulant child over it. The Ministry has implemented the Act to help the Wizarding population. You know we are in a state of decline that could result in irreversible damage if left unchecked. We used Arithmancy to determine compatibility, and I have the utmost faith in the wizard who designed the algorithm," Theo replied smugly, slightly disgusted at his friend's sloppy behavior.
"Spare us your swot routine, Theo," Blaise groaned. "We've all heard your lectures and there isn't enough Firewhiskey in Britain to make me ever want to listen to all that shite again."
Theo threw Blaise a two-fingered salute, laughing at what he recognized as truth in his friend's words.
"Doesn't explain why you aren't nervous, Nott. You had full control over the creation of the equation, did ya rig the system?" Marcus asked, his words causing the others to brighten slightly.
"Of course not," he scoffed, a single bed of sweat trailing down his spine at the mistruth. He did rig the system, only it wasn't for any of the buggers here at the bar. It took a simple solution, a simple rune change in the Arithmancy calculation, and everything was settled. It would take more than some Ministry restrictions to keep Theo from getting what he wanted.
Rather, who he wanted.
Theo shrugged Draco's arm from his shoulder and perched his elbow on the bar counter. He listened to Adrian and Marcus prattle on the potential witches they'd be matched with and watched Draco practically shouting his opinions on the witches gathered with them in the bar like a buffoon. Blaise was silent, nursing his third drink with a thoughtful look on his face. Theo knew he was apprehensive for an entirely different reason. It was all utterly ridiculous; he was glad he'd done what he'd done. It was comforting to know he wouldn't look like the other guys.
"You lot about ready to reveal the names of your-our doomed spouses?" he asked, a small smirk on his face. "I believe you are finally inebriated enough to handle the news."
Marcus grunted, waving his hand dismissively. Theo was going to take that as a yes.
Draco slapped his hand on the bar counter. "To the rest of our lives, gentle...men," he declared, the slur in his words even more prominent. "May the...luckiest man win!"
Blaise snorted. "May you manage to stand for the next minute in order to open the envelope, mate," the Italian replied, raising his glass with one hand and pulling out his watch from his blazer pocket with the other.
The other men watched him open the cover, nodding to them before he glanced up to the open windows high in the peaks of the roof. As owls began to swoop in, Theo turned to Draco, who had his head tipped back, glass to his lips as he tried to get every last drop of gin from its crystal prison. Theo's hand snatched out, grabbing the glass, his patience with his fellow Slytherin's drunken antics wearing thin. Draco stumbled slightly, yelling, as the force of Theo's rough handling knocking the inebriated wizard off balance.
His outburst drew the attention of several of those clustered nearby, and Terence Higgs reacted first, grinning widely, pulling Draco to him.
"What's all that, then?" He asked, his arm tight around the Malfoy heir's shoulders, preventing him from lunging at Theo. "Oh!" He exclaimed, spotting the owls who were just beginning to enter the pub.
There was a bit of confusion as owls began to dive amongst the crowd, trying to find their intended targets as the witches and wizards gathered there tried to intercept their letters. All told, it was easier than it looked, scarcely five minutes had passed before the owls had all departed, and a sense of foreboding filled the previously cheerful pub.
"Excuse me," a voice called out from the crowd, and almost as one, they turned, looking for the source of the voice.
Hermione Granger stood alone, a glass of wine clutched in her hand. She was still dressed in her Ministry robes, her hair a barely contained mass of curls on top of her head. Theo chucked fondly as he spotted a quill nestled in the tangle. He was reminded of the first time they met as adults, the first time he had really seen her. She worked with Draco in the Department of International Cooperation, fighting for the rights of magical creatures across the globe. They had been, predictably, arguing over the wording of some treaty when Draco arrived for lunch, Hermione apparently so unwilling to concede that she followed him to lunch, and he had heard the pair before they spotted him.
He had lifted his head to catch Draco's eye, and the breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Her hair was piled in a haphazard bun, a quill holding it in place; an ink stain was visible on her nose. Sunshine streamed through the window of the restaurant, and she was bathed in a golden glow as she continued to bicker with Draco, her eyes flashing with passion. He had wondered then how she had escaped his notice. He had, embarrassingly enough, once considered her beneath him. Not in Malfoy's garish way, reminding her of it at every occasion, but simply by ignoring her very existence.
He had welcomed the chance, that day, to become reacquainted with Hermione. She had joined them for lunch, optimistically hoping to continue to harangue Draco, but Theo had drawn her into the conversation instead, winking at his friend's grateful expression and letting him believe that he was simply doing so to save him the badgering.
He had become enamored of her that day, finding that they had many shared interests, surprised to find that she could hold her own in a variety of topics. When Draco begged her to allow them to return to work, he had surprised himself by offering to continue the discussion later that week. Thus their friendship began, lunches filled with heated debate and exploration of topics that would've had his former housemates lost in a sea of confusion.
Months flew by, his work in the Office of Magical Commerce was mentally stimulating but dreadfully dull. Their lunches and the occasional weekend symposium were a bright spot he sorely needed. They had moved from purely academic conversation into more personal topics.
One weekend he arrived to pick her up for a potions lecture and found her slightly drunk, a wedding invitation in her hand. Ron was marrying Fleur's younger sister, Gabrielle, and although Hermione insisted she was happy for her friend, she admitted that she felt like she was being left behind. They had skipped the lecture, spending the night talking about their plans for the future and steadily drinking Muggle vodka. She never mentioned that night again, but it felt like a turning point for their unexpected friendship.
He was sneaking in after a rather long lunch when he first heard the whispers of the outcome of that day's closed session of the Wizengamot. They had called the session after the release of the census his team had just completed, and his head spun as he listened to what they were discussing. A marriage law? He knew that the numbers were grim, but he didn't think it would come to this. It wasn't unprecedented, of course, after the Goblin Wars a similar act had passed, and that conflict had been far less devastating to the population than the aftermath of the Dark Lo–Voldemort's reign.
His mind whirled with possibilities, only to have his blood run cold as they whispered that a moratorium had been placed on all new marriage licenses for any couple who had not been together at least a year. When he heard them say that they were going to revise the Arithmancy equation that had used to create those pairings years ago, he squared his shoulders and made his presence known. He was the best Arithmancer in the department, hands down, and he knew what he needed to do.
Coming back to the present, he watched Hermione flush slightly under the weight of the eyes on her before taking a fortifying sip of her wine.
"We are gathered here to mourn the loss of our personal freedom," she said clearly, her eyes flashing with a familiar fire. "But it is my hope that we will also celebrate a new future, one that will rebuild our shared world, stronger than ever. I know that I had other dreams for my future, and I will mourn the opportunity that was taken from me."
She cast her eyes around the room before meeting Theo's eyes, a wistful smile playing at her lips. "However, this is presented as a new opportunity that we as a community can adapt and strive through. It is up to us to guide the next generations and show them our fortitude is elevated when we're united together."
Hermione raised her glass, lifting her chin as her previous fluster on her cheeks had faded. "To adapting and guiding the future."
Several witches and wizards murmured in agreement and raised their glasses as well. A collective sound of cheers resonated throughout the room and Theo couldn't help but smirk as he lifted his glass as well as with a tip of his head. Magnificent. And his .
The crowd meshed together again, everyone going their separate ways in order to open the letters delivered to them. Theo turned his letter over in his hands as he walked back towards the other men. It would be satisfying to rub his match in their faces after all the grievance they'd put him through tonight.
The first thing he noticed was Marcus. The wizard who had consistently ribbing Theo, outside of Malfoy himself, was staring at his letter with an unreadable expression on his face.