Hermione took one last look in the mirror before she left. Her hair hung limply around her shoulders, her eyes were red and swollen from crying and she appeared to be losing weight. She sighed as she ran her hands over her rib cage. She just couldn't seem to make herself eat. Nothing was satisfying. She glared at her reflection in the mirror. The clothes that she wore were simple and dingy from way too many washings, not to mention baggy and unflattering because of how small she had become in the past year or so. I seemed silly to worry about buying new clothes since the war had ended, not that her paycheck would have allowed her to be too frivolous.
She looked around her dark dank flat one last time. It was very dirty and no matter how many cleansing charms she cast, the thick coast of dust never seemed to rise. It was near a railroad station so every time a train went by, she seemed to get pelted with bits of plaster falling from the ceiling. It was hardly livable. In fact, to the untrained eye it appeared that nobody had set foot in the tiny one bedroom apartment for years. There was a lack of personal belongings, because most of her possessions had been lost in the destruction of her parents home by the hand of the death eaters. The only item in the entire flat that Hermione held dear was a small shoe box, which contained a few small mementos from friends that had been lost in the war, one in particular. Hermione let out a sigh of defeat, then with a small pop apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.
The gates were opened and inviting. She took a deep breath and then began to walk the long and winding pathway up to the Hogwarts Castle. She hadn't stepped foot on these grounds since Dumbledore's funeral. She had decided not to return her seventh year so that she and Ron could help Harry locate and destroy all of the horcruxes. After the war was finally over it had just seemed too painful to finish. However, being a great, war hero had secured her many high ranking and high paying job offers. She declined them all. Instead she took a small, almost unknown job dealing with muggle artifacts, for which she was more than qualified. The benefit of her job was that she could spend her day to day life out of the pubic eye. She didn't have to constantly tell the heroic tale of how Harry saved Voldemort and how the friends she had lost along the way died for a noble cause.
She made her way up the winding dirt path toward the castle with her head bowed against the wind. The grounds looked exactly as they had four years ago. If she strained her ears she could hear a hundred Gryffindors singing the revised version of "Weasley is the King" at the top of they're lungs, and for a brief moment she swore she could see a red headed sixteen year old bobbing between the hoops on one end of the Quiddich pitch. But with the blink of an eye, he was gone and the grounds were just as quiet and empty as ever. She pushed forward, wanting to get this meeting with the headmistress of the school over with quickly and with as little mess as possible.
Once in the castle memories seemed to haunt her at every turn. It was a relief when she finally approached the headmistress's door, even though she was dreading the news she would receive on the other end. She knocked quietly and waited until a stern but familiar voice said "enter."
On the other side of the door Hermione found her favorite professor and former mentor, Minerva McGonagall, sitting at a large desk with a small sign that read 'Headmistress' sitting on top of it.
"Hello Hermione," McGonagall said sternly, but not without concern, as she gestured to a squishy arm chair in front of her.
"Hello Professor," Hermione said cautiously. Then with out haste she added, "So can you help me or not?"
It was only a few days ago that Hermione and ever muggle-born witch for that matter received an official letter from the ministry. A letter that would very likely change all of they're lives permanently.
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
Due to the unbelievable amount of still births and squib births among pureblood families, not to mention other genetic abnormalities, the ministry must take action. As of today pureblood wizards will be allowed to petition for your hand and marriage. If more than one bids for you, you may choose. If you find none acceptable then you shall be entered to take part in a raffle in which you choose a pureblood wizard at random. Refusal of these marriages will result in the confiscation of your wand and time in Azkaban until either your mind has changed or you perish. Remember that this is for the good of the wizarding community, and the purpose of these unions is to produce strong offspring, so all marriages must be CONSUMATED!!!
Good luck to you!
Martha Humperdink
Promptly after receiving this letter four more arrived in the form of petitions from prospective husbands. As it turns out three of her most favorite people were dying to have her hand in marriage, including Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy. The kicker, however, was that there was also a petition from Luscious Malfoy! She promptly wrote to McGonagall in hopes that she would some how be able to pull some strings and get her out of this ridiculous law.
"Unfortunately, Hermione, I didn't accomplish much. I was hoping to cash in on the fact that you are a 'great war hero' and that you had participated in the final battle, but it seems that you have been out of the public eye far to long. It appears that even though you work at the ministry most people had believed you to be dead." She paused briefly. "In fact there really is only on alternative I could think of. We must find a pureblood wizard that can be trusted with you're wellbeing."
"But professor, I don't know any pureblood wizards…" Hermione sighed with defeat, assuming her fate had been sealed.
"Yes, I know. In fact I've been at it for days and really there is only one wizard that could even be considered…" she hesitated, "Severus…"
"Wh-?" Hermione faltered, recognizing her former professor by his first name.
"She means me…" said a harsh voice as a dark figure stepped away from the wall behind Hermione. She hadn't even noticed that he had been there.
"I know, Hermione. I myself would have preferred for you to be with some one closer to your own age. However, the death of Mister Weasley left a lack of descent, eligible pureblooded wizards," she waited for Hermione's answer.
Hermione stared at Professor McGonagall in disbelief, then turned to face her potions master. His hair was longer, he was thinner, and if it was possible, his demeanor seemed colder than she remembered. This was the man she would be married to for the rest of her life. Then she thought of her other prospects Crabbe, Goyle, Draco… and God forbid Luscious. Snape did seem the lesser evil. She sighed in defeat and turned back to Professor McGonagall.
"When will we have to be married?"
"As soon as possible," McGonagall responded, "Basically, in the amount of time it takes to put together a descent sized ceremony. Now I know you two aren't interested in being in the public eye but the ministry wants the first few of these marriages to be very publicized… to make it seem like this is a wonderful idea, and I think it would be a mistake to wait. Hermione, you had some very dangerous wizards petition you and I have a feeling they won't be jumping for joy to find that you have evaded them. The Weasley's have offered their home to you until after the wedding."
Hermione was lying on a cot in Ginny's room. It seemed as though no matter how much many times she rolled over she just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Perhaps it was the excitement of the day (Bill and Fleur's Wedding) or the uncertainty of tomorrow that kept her awake, but either way it appeared as though no sleep was to be had. She kicked her mess of blankets off the bed and enjoyed the feeling of the warm summer air wash over her.
She allowed her mind to drift over the events of the day. She worked to memorize every detail, knowing that it would be the last day of pure celebration… at least until Voldemort was defeated. She thought of how lovely Gabrielle and Ginny looked in their pale gold bridesmaid's dresses; even though it was painfully obvious Ginny would rather be wearing Quiddich robes and flying away on a broom somewhere. Fleur was beautiful of course, but the most memorable moment of the entire night was the last dance. Harry and Ginny danced together knowing that it could possibly be the last moment they spent together and after the song had ended they still held each other, wishing the moment would never end.
With that thought Hermione wondered if going with Harry would mean that she was marching to her doom. She couldn't stand just laying there any longer. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, when she heard a loud creak outside her door. She grabbed her wand of the nightstand and aimed it at the door. A moment later it opened, revealing a red headed boy wear pajamas that were inches too short.
"Nervous?" he smiled eyeing her wand.
"Just a bit anxious," she whispered.
"Come with me," he gestured for her to follow him and led her out to the garden. There they found Harry flicking his wand and mumbling under his breath. "Yeah, he's been doing that a lot lately…Oi! Harry!"
Startled, Harry jumped up and brandished his wand threateningly. Realizing it was them he lowered it. "Sorry guys, I'm a bit nervous I suppose. I guess I should go inside and try to get some sleep."
"Sounds like a good idea," Ron said. "See ya in the morning, mate." With that Harry turned and headed back to the burrow. "You can't really blame him for being afraid," Ron whispered to Hermione. He sat on the ground in the same spot Harry had been sitting moments before.
She sat down next to him. "Are you afraid?" she whispered.
He looked at her. "Terrified, actually." He pulled her close. "I'm terrified of losing my family. My friends. Harry…you." With that he brought his lips to hers. It was a short, soft kiss, but it carried with it all the things he had been dying to tell her for six years. "Hermione…I love you. If we live through this I want you to be my wife." He reached inside the pocket of his pajamas and pulled out a small silver object… it was a ring.
That was the last time she had been to the burrow.
"Do I have to go to the burrow? Why can't I just go back to my flat?"
"Hermione, with this marriage you will have angered some very powerful wizards. It isn't safe for you to go back to living alone and I don't think it would be appropriate for you to move into Severus's quarters until after you are married. Till then the Weasley's have offered you their home and their protection. You would be wise to take up on their offer!" She glared at Hermione as if to say that just because she had turned her back on the world didn't mean the world had turned its back on her. "Now, I do believe it's time to sign the papers." McGonagall shoved the paper in Hermione's direction. Hermione signed it without hesitation. Soon after, Hermione found herself being shoved into the fireplace and being flooed to the burrow.
Once she was gone McGonagall turned to Snape. "She didn't seem too thrilled," his voice dripped with venom.
"Severus Snape! Would it have killed you to offer her some words of comfort? Would it have killed you to say anything at all?" Professor McGonagall scolded.
"I agreed to marry her didn't I? It is because of me that she won't have to live as the Malfoy concubine. I think I deserve some credit! This wasn't my choice either!" he shouted.
"Very well," McGonagall sighed. "I know this is something of an inconvenience for you… but you may do well to remember that you will be spending the rest of your days in her company. With this in mind," McGonagall handed him a book that had been sitting on her desk, "it would probably be a good idea to put forth a bit of effort."
"Courting Rituals of Muggles?" he read. "You must be joking."
"You should know, Severus, that I rarely joke… and this is no joking matter. You may find that making things easier on Hermione may make things a bit easier on you as well. You may go now.
Severus glared at her and with a huff headed for the door.