Disclaimer: This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe upon copyrights held by J.K. Rowling or any other lawful holder.


To Love As Well

Prologue

by The Prodigal Seer and Shigeki11


Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free;
Love me no more, but love my love of thee.
~Algernon Charles Swinburne

It was a clear and crisp spring morning. The birds flew about, gathering material for their nests, flowers had sprung out of the ground, and the little brook in the forest burbled cheerfully as the wind gently swept across the land. Indeed, that spring was welcome. Just as Nature welcomed rebirth, so too did the Wizarding World welcome its new chance at a better life.

Voldemort was dead. His minions were locked away, and the streets of Diagon Alley had begun to feel more like their old selves. People still walked about cautiously, but no longer with wand at the ready as they lived their day-to-day lives. Music could be heard on the wind, as stores began to open their doors once more. Fortescue's was by far the most vibrant, and from the outside, children's joyful laughter could be heard.

All was well, from the outside, at least. But if you listened closely, to the rumbles below the clamour, yes, indeed, you would have cause for concern. And it is here we turn to the three young heroes of this story. A rather unconventional tale, I think, but I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do…after all, without it, I would not be here to tell it today.

I must add a disclaimer: seeing as this occurred so far in the past, I am not willing to venture that all is true; some may be the product of my creative fancy in order to fill in the gaps where my Pensieve could not. But all together, this is as close as we can get to the union of two perfectly-matched people.

Let us begin!

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Everyone back in the day expected Hermione Granger to become Hermione Granger-Weasley and have lots of red-headed and freckled children (or not, depending on which gene was dominant). Of course, they all say differently now. But then, hindsight is twenty-twenty, so one never really knows as to whether or not that is true. Frankly, that would have been rather disturbing, as Ronald Weasley was – and still is – ill-suited to Hermione. He's rather fond of off-colour jokes, I must say.

I digress.

It really came down to that one April morning, back in the year 2001, before, as my mother termed it, all hell broke loose. The Weasley family, along with Harry Potter and Hermione, were gathered altogether at the table (minus Fred Weasley, of course, God rest his soul), eating their breakfast, and being in general a rambunctious lot. A generally normal morning.

Ronald and Hermione, at this point, were still dating, and had made plans for a walk in the nearby woods that morning. It was obvious how close they were; Ron would squeeze her hand every so often and whisper loving nonsense into her ear. She would blush, and squeeze his hand in return, and leaned ever so subtly closer into him. Those around them exchanged significant looks; his mother looked fondly at the two of them and prayed that they would tie the knot soon. After all, her youngest had become a well-known entrepreneur along with his older brother, and Hermione had already finished her master's degree at a Muggle university as well as her Mastery in Charms. An accomplished feat, if anyone ever bothered to look at her Muggle academic career, which, of course, for the most part, they didn't. As much as the PR department at the Ministry boasted that the end of the Second Voldemort War they had become more Muggle-friendly, it was far from the truth. Muggleborns were treated fairly, perhaps, but Muggles were still viewed as animals with much destructive power but no brains to show for it.

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron tugged gently. "Let's go while it's still nice outside."

Hermione smiled. "What's the big rush? We haven't seen your family in a while now – "

"Forget my family," Ron interrupted. "I haven't seen you in a while. And aren't I more important? They'll be here when you come back, promise."

She smiled.

Excusing themselves with self-conscious grins on their face, they ducked out of the house.

They walked onto the old, beaten dirt pathway, headed towards the woods. Ron had his hands in his pocket while he shuffled along, and Hermione had hers clasped together, only occasionally reaching up to pull the long strands of hair out of her face.

"You know –"

"So – "

Both of them blushed, and glanced away.

"Oh, sod it!" Ron frantically dug into his pocket, reaching out with a little box in his hand. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Could it be…?

"Hermione Jean Granger…" Ron knelt down in the grass in the little clearing just outside the woods. "I…I love you." His words were hesitant, but his eyes shone with the clearest of blues as he held up the ring in his hand. "I love everything about you, how you love learning and always being right…" He chuckled nervously, then cleared his throat. "Hermione…I want to spend the rest of forever with you, cherishing you…would you do me the honour of being my wife and make me the happiest man in the world?"

Hermione choked.

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Now, it wasn't entirely a bad choke, but choke she did all the same. Perhaps because she had some inkling as to what was happening at the Ministry at the very moment, but that is an unlikely explanation, because, as intelligent as Hermione was, she was not a seer – far from it, she tells me with a shudder.

Deep in the Ministry, weeks and months before, the Ministry had been frantically charting the population growth of the Wizarding population. At first the trends were – normal, not increasing, but not decreasing either. In March of that year, though, everything changed. There was a sudden decrease in the levels of magic – so while fertility levels remained high, the number of Squibs had increased drastically, to the consternation of many.

An emergency meeting of the Wizengamot was called.

"Something must be done!" cried one old fart. "We can't keep going like this! At this rate only the muggleborns will have magic! We can't rely on incoming muggleborns to support our entire society! They'll destroy it!"

At this, a collective shudder could be seen all across the hall. And voices began to rise.

"Silence!" The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, thundered. "We will find a solution." Turning to the presenter, he asked, "Dr. Atkins, where exactly are the Squibs coming from? Is it from the aftermath of Dark Magic? Radiation in water, perhaps? Give us something we can work with, here."

"Yes, Minister," bowed the man politely. "According to the charts…" He flipped through the massive pad of paper. "The Squibs are mainly the products of pureblood relations –"

The Minister interrupted, "And the results of muggleborn-pureblood relations?"

"Then the chances would be significantly lower. The best results come from half-blood and pureblood, muggleborn and half-blood. The half-blood seems to be the key to all of this, but my team and I have not been able to figure out why –"

"Thank you, Dr. Atkins," interjected the Minister, rather rudely. "You may step down and leave."

As soon as the doors had slammed shut, the Wizengamot began talking excitedly again.

"What can we do?"

"What if my grandchildren are Squibs?"

"Our population's dying out!"

"We'll all become Muggles!"

The vein in Shacklebolt's temple throbbed visibly. Those near him recognized the danger signs and scurried away, but the general population was not so lucky. Magnifying his voice, they were very nearly deafened.

As soon as they quieted, the gleam in his eyes was back – and to those around him, it was most definitely Not-A-Good-Thing.

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"I-I don't understand," faltered Hermione. "You're saying we can't get married? On what grounds?"

Arthur Weasley had his arm wrapped around a weeping Molly. "The Wizengamot just passed a new law today. I'm taken to the understanding that muggleborns will only be allowed to marry halfbloods, and purebloods with halfbloods. A Marriage Law, so to speak. Kingsley is under the impression that our population is dying off from the alarming increase of Squibs, and frankly, I don't blame him."

Hermione sputtered. "But – but that's illogical! That doesn't even make sense! How on earth are you going to find a halfblood for every pureblood and muggleborn? Where is the sense behind all this nonsense!"

Percy Weasley spoke. "Apparently those muggleborns and purebloods with the best genes will be able to pro-create and mate with a halfblood – these will be assigned by compatibility. Everyone else will be left up to chance…until more halfbloods can be reproduced. A Dr. George Atkins of the Health and Welfare Department was the one who brought up the subject…rather frantically too, might I add."

"Atkins? Atkins is a fraud! Who on earth would listen to him?" Hermione scoffed. "And this whole scheme is ridiculous! How on earth do they come up with such far-fetched ideas?"

"I'm sure Kingsley is doing his best," commented Molly, who was just putting herself back in order. "It must be such a terrible burden, being Minister!"

Arthur shook his head. "We've asked for an exception already, but they won't take no for an answer, not from the two of you."

"Why not!" Ron retorted, angrily jumping to his feet. "We're war heroes. They can't just force us to do what they say, just because they have a whim."

Hermione shook her head. "It's precisely that we're war heroes that we were told ahead of time, isn't that right, Arthur?" she looked towards him for affirmation. "And they'll have some safeguards to prevent the very thing you're suggesting, Ron. Kingsley isn't a stupid man. He needs people to be the role models. And seeing as we're war heroes, as you just mentioned…" she shrugged her shoulders sadly. "We'll be the first ones to be paired off, and damn us if we're unhappy."

She wobbled to her feet. "If you'll excuse me," she said shakily. "I think I need some time alone." As Ron got up to go with her, she shook her head wistfully at him. "Not this time, Ron. Not this time." Not ever again…


Authors' Note:

Welcome to our first collab and first SSHG! We're incredibly excited to be working together, especially in a pairing that so many prolific authors have ventured in before us. We hope we can do this fic and pairing justice! We will be posting this fic on this account exclusively.

Speaking of which, we are still looking for a beta (or perhaps two, we're not picky). If you are available or even marginally interested, please let us know.

Until next time,

The Prodigal Seer and Shigeki11

P.S. Shigeki11 offers her most sincere apologies for neglecting her other fics.

P.P.S. If you are a fan of Severus Snape (why else would you be reading this?), you may want to read Shigeki11's Fear is the Heart of Love. It's an exploration of Eileen Prince's life - very interesting, if you ask me (The Prodigal Seer).