His face, when he finally appeared, was grim. "The executions have started," he said throwing down the newspaper.

Hermione's stomach clenched. She knew this day was coming, but she had no idea the executions would follow so swiftly on the heels of the arrests.

She picked up the paper and laid it flat on the table to hide the trembling of her fingers. "I think it's time."

"No," Harry stated firmly, his mouth a hard line. He sat down next to her on the kitchen bench and pulled her into his chest. "Not yet. We have two more weeks; something will work out. It has to."

She slipped her arms around his back and silently allowed him his comfortable denials. How could she not? The man had risked his very soul for her on several occasions. Ripping away his hope now would be unconscionable. Besides, she reasoned, he will realize the truth sooner or later. And she was betting on sooner. Harry talked a big game about hope, but she knew he understood their time limitations - even if he was presently unwilling to admit it.

After dinner and after Harry was in his room for the night, Hermione sat on her bedroom floor feeling ill-at-ease and frustrated. She opened her trunk and removed a small stack of letters. She held them, turning them over in her hand as she placed three in one stack and, in a fit of pique, threw one across the room. It landed with a soft sound which was irritating to Hermione. She felt that the letter should have crashed landed with a noise worthy of the mental turmoil the damn thing was causing her.

The letters did not look any different than they had a month ago, but they felt heavier in her hands as she handed, or threw, each one. The four weeks since their arrival had passed in a fear-tinged blur and, standing on the other side of them, she wondered how she had let so much time slip away.

The time hadn't been spent in complete frivolity; she and Harry truly had tried changing the laws. However, even Harry's hero status couldn't stop the wheels of bureaucracy. He had called in every favor he was owed, and then some, but to no avail. It was now time to face the truth. Hermione was going to have to marry.

She silently cursed her own cowardice. The International Relocation Offer had been a viable choice. While it was essentially banishment, the permanent memory damage to her parents meant that there wasn't much for her in Britain anyway. She was a witch, after all, and had magical means of communication quite literally at her fingertips. She wouldn't have died from loneliness.

She wasn't foolish enough to entertain grandiose notions of martyrdom. In her opinion, the executions thus far had been pointless. Why anyone would choose death over a condo in America was baffling. The analytical part of her brain coldly told her that a famous martyr was just what the Marriage Law Resistance needed; but that same part of her brain also told her that she did not hold enough sway over the magical community to achieve the following a true martyr deserved. Harry on the other hand, her mind supplied, would be the almost perfect choice. Harry fighting to the literal death over this issue may actually help them gain some traction. However, the part of her heart that led her to make the House Elves clothes wouldn't let her consider Harry's sacrifice for more than a few frightening seconds.

No, she knew herself well enough to see that she was clearly going to choose marriage over the other options. Her will to survive and her selfish desire for comfort would win out. The question was, could she accept any of the offers that she had received? The non-starters from the Mulciber, Nott, and Goyle families had been tossed into the small NO pile right away. The offers which deserved a second look had disappeared one by one as people made decisions about marriage which didn't include waiting on Hermione to make up her mind. And then there was the one she had yet to open. It silently mocked her from across the room. It's ramifications made her stomach twist as she glared at the envelope. And yet, that damned analytical part of her brain reminded her, that while particularly loathsome, the envelope may just hold the answer to her current predicament.

It wasn't that she didn't know who had sent it. Harry had rushed home from the ministry and had presented his offer to her himself. Her brave, selfless, unthinking friend had offered for her straight away when the first broken seal had revealed that the Nott family desired her as a whatever-in-law. The fact that their marriage would cause heartache in more than one quarter seemingly did not hold enough sway to stay his hand.

Hermione knew without a doubt that Harry had agonized over the heartbreak which would befall Ginny; but she also knew he considered it a regrettably necessary sacrifice considering the alternative of losing one of his best friends to a Death Eater family. The fact that Hermione may not actually want saved had not occurred to him; although, she admitted to herself, the convenient nature of being saved was exactly why she had not thrown Harry's offer out straight away.

The idea of marrying Ron had come up early in the problem-solving talks, but that option was swiftly negated when he eloped with Luna Lovegood of all people. Hermione didn't want to examine that decision too closely as she was afraid she may discover something about herself she wasn't ready to face. Surely Ron hadn't run off with Luna to avoid marriage to her? That bit of introspection was best saved for another day when the issue of her future wasn't so pressing. And the sting of rejection wasn't so fresh.

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a knock at her door. Damn. Harry hadn't been asleep after all. No point in delaying the inevitable, she supposed.

"Come in."

Harry opened the door slowly and made his way over to her spot on the floor. "I don't suppose you've opened my offer yet, have you?"

She debated lying, but decided his loyalty demanded honesty, if nothing else. "Not yet. But I was thinking about it."

"I think that it does you credit that you've waited this long and considered everyone's feelings," he started cautiously, "but I think you were right earlier, even though you didn't say it. We are out of time. Or very close anyway."

She knew he would face up to the approaching deadline. She just hadn't counted on it being tonight. She was saved from replying, as he met her eyes and said emphatically, "We would survive this, you and I. We've been through worse."

"You only say that because you've never been married," she responded breaking eye contact and worrying at the hem of her night shirt.

He snorted in amusement. "And you're suddenly an expert? Come on Hermione. We both know this is the best option. I will not see you handed off to some Death Eater family like a belated Trophy for a war they didn't even win. It's disgusting and I couldn't live with myself if that were to happen to you when I have the power and the means to prevent it."

She met his gaze again, "I will think about it. It isn't like I want to be handed to the Goyle family on a platter, but I can't decide what is worse: a future with a miserable man or a future with a man I've made miserable."

A startled look crossed Harry's face for a split second before he forced himself to ask, "Why do you think I would be miserable married to you?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but the lump in her throat prevented any reply she might have made. In the place of words, she simply reached into her trunk and pulled out her photo album. She flipped it open to the front page where a picture from sixth year held a prominent place in the center of the page. Two couples stared out of the frame, smiling and waving at two of their real-life counterparts.

Hermione cleared her throat and spoke softly, "You saving me will wreck everything else. This wasn't how we were all supposed to end up - and I couldn't live with, myself if you wound up resenting me for interrupting the future you should have had with Ginny." Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them mercilessly back. She would make this decision as level-headed as she possibly could.

Harry closed the photo album firmly and set it aside. He leaned across the small space between them and held onto her hand tightly. His eyes found hers and held her gaze evenly, all traces of uncertainty gone from his face and voice. "I will save you,' he vowed seriously.

"Yes," she replied, "but at the expense of what?"

His answer came swiftly and without even the briefest moment of hesitation, "At the expense of everything else."

She knew he was serious. Likewise, she knew she would accept his offer. It really was the only viable option she had - or at least that's what she told herself over and over again as she watched the estrangement from the Weasley family wear on Harry. Afterall, Hermione had never wanted to live in a condo, and she really wasn't famous enough for martyrdom.