Summary:

Poor Harry can think of nothing but Ginny, trouble is they have not dated for a year. When she returns from a Quidditch tour of Europe disillusioned with men, he'll have to race the clock, knowing he has only until December to win her back. Ron's all ready to pop the question, but Hermione's sworn to have none of this ridiculous marriage law. She crushes Ron when she vows to protest the law until the bitter end, but could it be that she's gasp meant to be with someone else?

Single's Dances and Quidditch Matches. Catfights and Courtrooms. Buy your dress robes and pick out a ring, because it's going to be a wild year.

Small flat in the care of the Messieurs Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas. Evening.

Harry shook with laughter. He fell out of his chair and rolled on the floor of the relatively new carpet.

"Okay, okay, stop laughing," said Ron. "Let's go over this one more time."

Harry swallowed an enormous guffaw and sat down again in the cushiest armchair. He liked living here. Convinced he needed more of a social life, his friends had dragged him out of Grimmauld Place after Kreacher had left (with his encouragement) to work on the House Elf right's movement. They had modeled their flat after Gryffindor Tower, on a much humbler scale, and their other roommates had been their roommates for six years at Hogwarts. Harry liked the old school atmosphere of the situation, but looking at Ron's worried face, he knew it wouldn't last much longer. Ron was ready to settle down. He rather envied his friend in that. "Tell me again why I have to be Hermione?"

"You're my roommate, you're my best mate, and Ginny's in Prague."

Harry tried to ignore the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Although it'd been over a year since they'd broken up, he still got an awful little thrill every time he thought too hard about her. But he had no right to pine. Ron was all nerves right now, and with good reason.

Ron took a deep breath. "All right, stay in the chair." He walked away from Harry and fumbled with the box in his pocket. "So I think after dinner we'll come back here for dessert. I'll start over here," he planted his feet next to the door, "and then sort of walk towards her as I'm talking."

Harry slouched in his chair, "Who says she'll be sitting down?"

Ron groaned. "I'll ask her to have a seat. Shut up and act like Hermione."

Harry batted his eyelashes and crossed his legs in a scathing imitation of Ron's first girlfriend. "Okay Won-Won."

"If Hermione acted like that I wouldn't be proposing to her. Just be quiet."

Harry clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from laughing as Ron sauntered over to the chair in a terrifically botched attempt to look casual. "Hermione, we've been dating on and off since we were seventeen. You know I love you. But there's more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Hermione will you marry me?" Ron reached in his pocket and struggled to pull out the ring box, which he had accidentally snapped onto the fabric on the inside of his pocket. He tugged hard and it came free, slipped out of his hand, and hit Harry on the chin. "Oops."

Harry rubbed his chin. "Er, maybe we should practice again." He flipped open the red velvet box. A large diamond framed by several magically glowing periwinkles shined on his glasses. "Wow, this is really nice." Ron had done pretty well for himself after working with George at the joke shop, even if being a junior Auror paid next to nothing. He closed the box. "Maybe you should kneel down."

"You don't think that'd be cheesy? What about the speech? I worked on it for a week."

Harry shrugged. "That was a speech? It was pretty short. I dunno. I'm not a girl. It seemed… nice."

"You should compliment her!" called a voice from the kitchen. Neville Longbottom, one of their other roommates, walked in. "Hey guys, just flooed in from the Ministry. It's pretty wild there with all the election frenzy. A woman from the Daily Prophet told me she'd never seen such a close race." He looked at the ring box. "I couldn't help but overhear. You should tell her how pretty she is, how smart, iwhy/i you want to be with her."

Ron's eyes widened. "You're right! Although, no offense Neville, but when did you become such an expert on girls?"

Neville blushed. "Sorry. I don't really know where that came from. I have been going on more dates lately. Dean keeps setting me up with these foreign girls he meets curse-breaking."

Ron punched Neville in the arm. "Good for you. I bet the ladies all adore a charming young crime-fighting, giant-snake-slaying Herbologist such as yourself." Neville shook his head again and blushed. He was about to say something when they all heard a crash in the kitchen.

"Who left their silver scales on the floor!" someone shouted.

"Sounds like Dean just Apparated," Ron reached for Harry's hand. "Here, give me the box."

"Not until you kneel down. We need to practice this again."

"Okay, you're right." Ron knelt and took the box. "Actually Neville, you be Hermione. Harry can't take this seriously." Neville and Harry switched places. Ron took a deep breath. "You know I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. You're so smart and caring and compassionate and beautiful!" Neville nodded. Harry stifled a snort.

"Will you marry me?" Ron held out the box.

Neville took it. "Oh Ron, I can't believe it!"

Ron raised an eyebrow and panicked. "Why do you sound so surprised? Do you think she'll be that surprised? We've been going out for years."

"Um, I just said what they all say in those daydream charms my Grandmum's always buying." He opened the ring box.

Dean walked in carrying a pair of dented silver scales. Neville was admiring the ring while Ron knelt before him. "Wow guys. Congratulations. But don't you have a girlfriend Ron?"

"Soon to be fiancée," Ron promised as he stood up.

Dean put the scales on the maroon couch. "Just in the nick of time. You won't believe who was appointed Minister of Magic. It was just announced on the wireless in the kitchen."

Ron waved his wand at his damaged scales. Nothing happened. He frowned at Dean,

"Please say it's not Dawlish." Dean shook his head.

"Kingsley's come back from China?" suggested Neville.

"I wish." Dean tried waving his own wand at the scales. "Reparo." Nothing happened.

"No, Amos Diggory."

"Crazy Amos, The-Wizarding-Population-Will-Die-Out-If-We-Don't-Act-Now, Diggory?" said Harry.

"The very same. I guess that big speech he gave last week helped convince a lot of people. I don't think anyone under thirty wants him, but we're a vast minority. Oh well, I guess it'll be kind of fun to see him try and get everyone married by the end of the year." Dean pushed the scales away and stretched out on the couch.

Neville gulped. "Don't worry Neville," Harry got up to find some food. "He can't really do that."

Florian Fortescue's. The next day.

"He can't do that!" shouted Hermione. "He just can't do that. That's against our rights.

That's against common sense!" The trio all sat together at a table outside the ice cream shop. It was a beautiful spring day, but Hermione did not notice the chirping birds or the delicious taste of her maraschino cherry ice cream. She was too busy ranting.

"I still don't understand what you're talking about. Is this about house elves or Diggory?" Ron coated his tongue with cinnamon ice cream.

"It's not always about house elves," Hermione assured them. "This is most certainly about Diggory and the insane Marriage Law he's proposed!"

"How come we haven't heard about this law?" He had known Hermione long enough to recognize the difference between her habitual demand for justice and when she was genuinely upset. This was the genuine version. He was losing his appetite even though he was holding a dish of watermelon sorbet.

Hermione savagely attacked a cherry with her spoon. "He just proposed the law this morning. It'll be all over tomorrow's papers. Witch Weekly will have a field day. This pretty much guarantees them juicy gossip for the rest of the year."

"What law?" shouted Ron and Harry.

Hermione sighed and put her spoon down. "Every single witch and wizard between the ages of twenty-one and thirty must be married before the end of the year."

"Oh, ha ha," Ron had another lick from his cone. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Ron swallowed. "Sweet Merlin, you're serious! But no one will pass the thing, right?"

Harry looked out. An old witch with a large handbag was walking up to the shop with her granddaughter. The witch let her granddaughter skip ahead and watched her with a broad smile. "I think they might," he said.

Ron choked on his ice cream. "Come off it Harry."

The old witch and her granddaughter held hands now. He felt a little clammy, but maybe it was just the sorbet. Or maybe it was the prospect of marrying someone by December. "Just think about it Ron. Who'd your Mum vote for?"

"Diggory. She says he knows what it's like to have lost a son."

"And will she regret her vote after she hears about the marriage law?"

Ron snorted. "Oh course she—while actually maybe not…" He lowered his voice. "Especially since Charlie decided to delay the wedding until April. She's always complaining about the fact that Bill's the only one settled. And she hates that's she's only got one grandkid. You know, she needs another young brood to nag now that all of us are out of nappies."

"There you go." Harry tried to make his point without dwelling on its dreadful implications. "People like us don't run the Wizengamot. People like your Mum do. Older people who want grandkids and stability and all that."

"I guess you're right." Ron took a deep breath and stared into the small sphere of brown that remained on his cone. "While, I guess if they do pass it, it won't be the end the world. I mean it'll be pretty funny seeing chaps like Zacharias Smith running around trying to get dates." He cocked an eyebrow in much better imitation of casual than last night's. "And you know Harry, living at the flat's great and all, but we can't be swinging bachelors forever. I mean, some things are getting old, especially Neville's socks." He shot a fervent look at Hermione, "Maybe it is time we all started to think about settling down." Ron kicked Harry under the table so he shrugged and nodded.

Hermione had picked apart her napkin during their whole exchange. Now she came alive with a passion. "I cannot believe what I am hearing!" She grabbed the edge of the table and pushed herself to a standing position. "This complacency from two men who brought about the defeat of Lord Voldemort? Well, you can laze about all you want, casually discussing the life-long fate about to be thrust upon you, but I won't stand for it! There's one witch with a background in Magical Law that's not paranoid or desperate for a grandchild." She looked down at Ron with a queasy twist of her lip. "Which reminds me dear, I'm really sorry, but I can't go out for dinner tonight. I need to go to the archives and research the legality of this moronic law."

Ron nodded. "While that's great, that really is, and we're right behind you. But say," he paused, "Say things don't work out. I mean wouldn't you rather just get married than end up banished or wandless or something?"

Hermione banged her fist on the table. Harry's sorbet dish clattered. "You think I will give up? I told you before; this is an infringement on our rights. This is the sort of thing a government should never be allowed to do. If I have to I will fight this to the bitter end. They will have to tie me up, confound me, put me under the Imperius curse, force Essence of Insanity down my throat and drag me to the altar before I ever comply to such a ridiculous law!" She stared them both down. "There's in no way in hell I will be married to anyone anytime soon."

"Great," said Ron hoarsely. Harry could see it all in his eyes. He was thinking of the ring box on top of his dresser.

Oblivious, Hermione picked the pieces of her napkin. "Sorry I can't stay. I'm off to fight injustice." She smiled sweetly before turning on her heel and marching away with all the menace of a rampaging hippogriff.

The flat again. One week later.

Ron paced the kitchen floor, rattling the cupboards for something good to eat and pulling out drawers to scrounge for utensils. Harry sipped his butterbeer and watched him fight a losing battle.

"I haven't seen her for more than five minutes all week!" He kicked a drawer. "Don't we have any firewhiskey around here?" He slammed a cupboard shut. "She's wrapped up in this thing, but she's not gonna win this time!" Ron pulled a chair from the table with terrific violence and sat down so hard he almost broke it. A fiendish gleam sparked in his eyes. "And you know what? She can try to deny it, but this iis/i about house elves. I knew it was about house elves. It's always about house elves!"

Harry put down his butterbeer. "I'm not sure how not wanting to get married has anything to do with house elves."

"Shows what you know. Amos Diggory worked in the department for Control of Magical Creatures for years! He was always up against Hermione and her crusade. And now she wants revenge." He grabbed Harry's butterbeer mug and tipped back in his chair to drink half of it in one sip. He put down the mug and sighed. "I'm in a war for Hermione's heart mate. Me versus all the house elves of the world. And I'm losing." He wiped his mouth and muttered something like, "even our first kiss."

"Right," said Harry. If Ron was going to steal his drink, he figured he didn't have to listen to the whole rant. Besides, he had too much to think about. Who was he supposed to marry? When did Ginny get back from Prague? Why had he just had those thoughts together?

Ron took another sip of the butterbeer. Dean walked in. "Hi guys. Nice to see you're back early tonight. We should celebrate." Ron and Harry often spent late nights on duty. He noticed the way Ron clutched the mug in his hands. "Still pining? Maybe you should be drinking something stronger."

Ron pushed off from the table and turned on Dean. "Maybe you should take that poster in you and Neville's room down before I curse you into oblivion!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh come on Ron, I've got the other two chasers up there. I need the complete set. It's not like you have to see it. You share with Harry."

Harry looked up. What were they arguing about this time? He took the butterbeer back and started reading his magazine. Dean and Ron argued more than anyone else.

Just now Ron was shaking his finger at Dean in a way that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley. "While I saw it today. I came in to borrow your scales and there she was right in front of my nose, tossing her hair like she's Celestina Warbeck or something!"

Dean looked insulted. "It's Carol Diminy who tosses her hair. She just sort of stands there with her broom."

"Oh ha ha. I'm sure that gives you the right to objectify my sister."

Harry's head snapped up. The other two did not notice.

"She joined the Holyhead Harpies," said Dean. "That's like asking for it. And anyway she's my ex and she broke up with ime/i. I've got every right."

Harry swallowed. "You and Neville have a poster of Ginny in your room?"

Dean looked more apologetic to Harry then Ron. Even though they had both dated her, they had an unspoken rule never to talk about it. Finally he sat down and shrugged. "Carol Diminy's probably the hottest witch alive. And I thought if I was going to buy her poster I might as well get the other Chasers on the team. Make a complete set you know."

Ron groaned. "Angelina Johnson's up there too. It's like a Gryffindor Quidditch team reunion." Dean scowled. Harry remembered Dean had always wanted to be on the team.

"Where's Neville?" Harry asked before Ron could start up again. He wondered what the poster looked like…

"He's on a date, remember?" said Dean.

"Getting a head start I suppose," Ron stared glumly into the tablecloth. "I hope he brings back leftovers. Harry, sometimes I think you should never have encouraged Kreacher to go."

"I brought Thai food from the Muggle place across the street," Dean put a plastic bag on the table in front of Ron. It smelled wonderful.

Ron wrinkled his nose. "They always overcook their noodles." But he ate two helpings and did not mention Ginny. They spent dinner talking about anything but Ginny, Hermione, and above all the Marriage Law, but Neville arrived and forced them all to confront the issue.

He was holding a newspaper. "How was your date?" said Dean.

"Not bad," Neville said absently. He kept reading as he walked over to the table.

"Is that today's?" said Harry.

"Um, yeah, special evening edition." Neville kept reading.

"Can we see the headline?"

Neville looked at Harry as if he were Professor Snape demanding to see one of his potions. "I don't think you want to, it's not very good news…"

"Just put it on the table," grumbled Ron.

Neville spread the bold front page out in front of them. Act for Preservation of the Wizarding Population Passed. "That's the Marriage Law," said Neville.

"How is it we work at the Ministry, but no one ever tells us anything?" It was all Harry could think of to say. Why was he still thinking about that poster in Dean's room?

"Maybe 'cause we do all the real work catching Dark Wizards and they spend all their time passing dumb laws like this."

Dean sped read to pick up the gist of the article. "They weren't supposed to decide until next week, but Diggory moved the date up. Pretty smart if you ask me. Hey, Hermione's quoted in here! He pointed to the paragraph under a beaming picture of Amos Diggory.

Not everyone is so pleased with this dramatic measure. Hermione Granger, a young intern in the Magical Law Enforcement Department, and a famous participant in the war against Lord Voldemort, said the following as she left the Wizengamot. "It's not over yet. Mark my words this law will be reviewed and repealed by the end of the month." When questioned about how the law will affect her personally she remarked, "Anyone else disturbed by this law will be pleased to know I will stand firm. I will not be married by the end of this year no matter what the consequences. I will never to comply to a such an abuse of rights."

"Same old, same old." Ron reached for the butterbeer. Harry pulled it away from him. "But she'll come around. She has to."

Dean pointed at the paper again. "Look who else is throwing a fit." A second important member of the young Wizarding community also spoke out against the law. Draco Malfoy, penitent playboy and bestselling author of, The Man Behind the Mark, told reporters, "This is simply unacceptable. I will use any influence or assets in my possession to combat this law."

Neville reached for the box of noodles. His hand shook. "That doesn't sound like Malfoy."

Ron dug his fingernail into the waving picture of Amos Diggory. "Yeah, he's probably just saying that 'cause no girl in their right mind would marry him. But on the bright side, maybe he'll buy the Ministry out."

"Malfoy wrote a book?" said Harry.

Dean looked up from reading. "You need to come out of that hole that is the Auror Office more often. It's a really famous book. It's a memoir about his time as a Death Eater. Very, very apologetic. Seamus read it and he's convinced, but I don't believe it. Malfoy was always a pretty good little liar."

Neville was still shaking. "What's the matter?" said Harry.

"It's just kind of weird how we're all so calm. I mean, we all have to get married and we're talking about Draco Malfoy?"

Ron succeeded in snatching the mug from Harry. It was empty. "It's called ignoring reality mate. Dean's got a poster of my sister in his room, the woman I love likes house elves better than me, and these noodles are overcooked. All I can do is drown my sorrows in sweet and sour sauce and discuss the literary talents of Draco Malfoy. He always did have a way with words. Remember when he called Harry a wide-mouthed tree frog?"

Dean stood up. "The reason iI'm/i so calm, is I don't think anything will change. Hermione's right, the law will get repealed. While it lasts we'll have lots of fun dating desperate girls. So no worries."

"I guess so," said Neville.

"You'd better be right," said Ron.

Harry did not say anything. He certainly did not say anything about the editorial on the next page of the paper (Why the Marriage Law Makes Sense by Rita Skeeter), or about the touching quotes at the end of the article by Amos Diggory, or about the hundreds of Molly Weasleys out there in the Wizarding world. He wanted them to keep their good spirits for now. He knew they could not last long. This was just like the Yule Ball, or that Charity Gala last year… everybody needed a date… except this was for life. He folded the paper back up, stuck it under his arm, and left the room.