The war had ended badly, but everyone was just grateful it had ended at all. Voldemort had been defeated, in the end, but the body count was horrific. The Ministry of Magic, in response, had enacted a somewhat controversial measure calling upon the survivors to "do their part in ensuring a strong, promising future for Wizards everywhere". In short, the Wizarding World needed babies and everyone between 16 and 30 with a drop of Wizard blood in their veins was being conscripted into an arranged marriage.
Harry's was on very short notice. He'd only received his owl that morning, telling him to come to the Ministry's concealed wedding tent somewhere in the wilds of Scotland. They hadn't even told him who he was supposed to be spending the rest of his life with.
He was waiting in front of a very harried-looking Kingsley Shacklebolt, who'd evidently been marrying couples all morning long. Harry had passed a few of them on the way in; some hadn't looked particularly happy with their matches. Harry supposed that saving the Wizarding World from Voldemort's scourge made him deserving of a happier ending. After all, without him there might not be a Wizarding World left to repopulate.
With little fanfare, someone walked through the tent's opening. The girl, swathed in a silk dress, walked somewhat hesitantly towards him with her veiled eyes pointed squarely at the ground. She was tall and slender beneath the billowing fabric, but there was something oddly familiar about the way she walked. The girl stood beside Harry, but pulled away every time she brushed against him as if he were liable to bite her.
Kingsley began to rattle off their vows in a very rehearsed, matter-of-fact way. "Do you, Harry James Potter, take Lyra Spica Malfoy to-"
Harry mumbled his way through the rest of the ceremony rather absently. Lyra Malfoy? Was she a sister of Draco's? Draco and his family had been slightly warmer to Harry after the war, but he wondered how Draco would feel about becoming his brother-in-law. He'd never mentioned a sister, and Harry had certainly never seen her at Hogwarts. Maybe she was sent to Durmstrang. Maybe she was just much older than him. Maybe she was a Squib. At least she'd be well off. Lyra's hands were warm and soft, with slender, agile fingers. He wondered what the rest of her looked like.
Harry, lost in thought, barely noticed when it came time to kiss the bride. He tried to look eager, but of course not too eager. She turned to him, pulled back the veil with a sigh, and...
What in Merlin's name is going on here!?
"Hang on, there's been a mistake-" Harry began.
"I wish it were, Potter. I'm as pleased about this as you are," said Draco, scowling.
Kingsley looked impatient. "Please, kiss your bride so that all the other couples can be wed."
Harry and Draco stared at each other for a silent moment.
"Yes, Potter," said Draco, finally. "Kiss me. Let's get this nonsense over with."
"I'm not marrying Draco Malfoy!" protested Harry.
Draco gave him a rather curt kiss, as though he were afraid that Harry might bite him. "Looks like you just did," he hissed.
Almost lazily, Shacklebolt waved his wand over the pair and declared them bonded for life. Silver sparks shot out and drifted down onto the newlyweds like brilliantly shining snow. Harry blinked away the afterimages. The bonding spell felt like a thick iron shackle binding him to a cell in the world's deepest, darkest dungeon.
Congratulations, newlyweds! You've just joined the Wizard Repopulation Effort! You are now bound by the terms and conditions of this document, on pain of a sentence in Azkaban...
Harry skimmed over the rest of the letter while trying to avoid his new mother-in-law's withering gaze.
How romantic they made it all sound. Couples received sizeable bonuses for every child they produced after the first two, and there was quite literally no way out of the contract. Aurors were standing by for deployment in the event that anyone tried to escape their new duty.
"Thank Merlin your father didn't live to see this, Lyra," said Narcissa, glaring at Harry. The three of them sat in Malfoy Manor's opulent living room, drinking tea prepared by one of their House Elves. Harry was afraid to try his for fear it might be poisoned. It certainly smelled fine. "He always wanted to see you married off to that nice Parkinson girl," Narcissa continued. "He would've given anything to have a nice strong scion carry on the Malfoy name. I suppose we can hyphenate the children's names, but I doubt that 'Malfoy-Potter' will look anywhere near sophisticated enough."
Harry took a hesitant swallow from his cup of tea and was mildly surprised when he did not keel over in agony shortly thereafter. As a bonus, the tea was excellent.
"I was born a girl, but Father wanted a son," explained Dra-no, Lyra. It was going to be odd thinking of her that way. "So Mother put a charm on me to make me into a boy. She dispelled it this morning, when we got the Ministry's owl. It didn't wear off all at once because it's been on me for so long," she said, rubbing her expanding breasts.
Lyra looked more feminine with every passing second. She was distressingly pretty in female form, as well. As Harry sipped his tea, some deeply buried part of him thought that this arrangement might not be so bad after all. Several other parts, however, were doing their best to keep it sealed and out of sight. They didn't seem to be succeeding.
"It will have worn off by the time you two consummate your new relationship," said Narcissa. "The one saving grace here is that you weren't paired with a Mudblood. Fortunately, I still have some contacts in the Ministry. I'm sure that we can find you a decent job that won't tax your miscegenetic brain too terribly, so you won't be a total drain on our resources. You two can have the spare wing, since you've nowhere good enough for my Lyra to haughtily storm out of, much less live." She sipped her tea. "Darling, won't you take your...breeding partner up to your new bedroom?"
Lyra seized his wrist and dragged him to the wing Narcissa had indicated. Her grip was like iron.
Malfoy Manor made the Black family's house in Grimmauld Place look like Hagrid's cabin. Harry found himself gazing in awe at the sheer beauty of the place he would now be living.
Lyra smirked. "Never lived in a proper house before, have you, Potter?"
No pressure, then, thought Harry. "That's not my fault. My parents-"
"Yes, I know," said Lyra. "Everyone knows. And after the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters were destroyed and those Muggles you live with got blown up, no one's left to take you in. You should feel grateful, Potter. This is the best thing that could have happened to you. You'll be living with a decent family for once."
"Hey, do you think you could call me by my first name?" Harry asked. "Since you're my wife now and all?"
Lyra stopped and glared at him. Her voice was so cold enough to make polar bears shiver and flee in search of warmer climes. "No, Potter. I don't think I will."
"Then lead on, Mrs. Potter."
Lyra's fingernails drove themselves into his arm like the nails in a coffin.
Author's Notes: That was kind of a slow start, but it will pick up in later chapters. I promise. Please read and review if you'd like to see more!
Also, I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.
