A/N: A thanks to Lady Isabelle Black for pointing out that the page didn't load and for randver for giving me my first review ever. Hopefully, this story goes in a somewhat unexpected direction! Please let me know what you think of the ideas and characterization. I'm trying to not take sides and present everyone as more well rounded.

"Who is the best student in your year?"

Hermione had barely opened the door to her dormitory before she spat out the question that had been bothering her since she stepped into the hall. Ginny bit back a smile and took a seat on Hermione's neatly made bed. The last time she'd seen her friend get this tangled up was over the use of Thestrals to pull the school's carriages.

"Uh…. Not sure…" She set her book next to her and hoped it wouldn't get lost among the stacks that were the only source of disorder around Hermione's bed. Where other girls might collect make up or perfumes, Hermione hoarded her extracurricular books.

"Caspian Dodgeson." Hermione answered her own question.

"Ok… why?"

"And second highest ranking?"

Ginny just shook her head. She pulled her feet up onto the bed and balanced her chin in her hand.

"Martin Skore. And third-"

"'mione, what is this all about?" Ginny grinned over her fingers. "You know I don't give a damn about grades."

"Well you should!"

"Oh?" This old argument again? Ginny sighed and straightened up. How many times would she and Hermione have to have this conversation? Shaming a Weasley into studying never worked. Hermione should know that by now- considering how many times she had tried and failed with Ron.

"Yes!" The passion which had sorted Hermione into Gryffindor was showing clearly now. The older girl paced in front of the bed. Stepping over Pavarti's overspilling pile of shoes until she angrily kicked them out of her path.

"Why?"

"Because Ginny-" Hermione whirled on her friend and pointed at the book laying at Ginny's side. "Everything Simone de Beauvoir was writing about in the Muggle world is true in the Wizarding!"

Ginny sat up slowly and cast a new glance of appreciation at the book which had been her companion for the last few evenings in the common room. Hermione had returned that fall with a new light in her eyes. Over the summer, she had stumbled across the world of 'feminism' during one of her summer classes at her local muggle school. Every time Ginny had seen her since- Hermione's nose had been buried in a book. No different than how Hermione was most of the time- but these books weren't school related. No, they were muggle books. Books full of ideas of 'feminism' and 'equality.' Growing tired of listening to Hermione make muttering little comments during her history essays, Ginny had finally broken down and started reading "The Second Sex" mostly for the title.

"What do you mean, 'mione?"

"Everything is just like the muggles, Ginny!" Hermione finally stopped pacing and turned towards her friend. She held her wand up like a pointer. "First, the last female minister of magic was in the 1500's and she was only appointed because of how perfect a puppet she was for the Mal de Foi family and was replaced by their second son three years into her term.

"Second, though women are allowed to inherit titles and be heirs, there are only three

female heirs of any family in the past fifty years. Women are allowed to inherit lands, titles, and so forth- but so few of them do.

"Third, and most important Ginny, except for me, the top students of every house- of every year- in every class- they are all male, Ginny. There is not a single instance in any of the important classes- the classes that matter- of girls outranking the boys. You're one of the highest ranking girls in your year, Ginny and look at your grades!"

Ginny ignored the sting- Hermione could be thoughtless at times- and shrugged. "I'm good with the practical's."

"Yes- but why isn't anyone else? I know I've seen them at the libraries- not as long as me of course- so why aren't the girls doing better in their classes?" Hermione resumed pacing as Ginny chewed on her hair and frowned at the floor. It was true, now that she thought about it. Boys always were answering the questions and getting called on first. They were always the first ones called up to practice spells.

"I think it's the teachers."

Ginny glanced up, frown still on her face. "What?"

"The professors. It's an inherent bias in the classrooms. Male professors are convinced of male superiority and it is subtly rubbing off on all the other girls so that even if they once wanted to succeed in school, they are now scared to."

For a moment, Hermione seemed to be aflame with the rage from her new passion. Eyes shining bright in her passion- until Ginny realized the brightness came not from fervor but from unshed tears.

"'Mione-" Ginny started, then Hermione sat down heavily on the side of the bed.

"It was supposed to be different, Gin?" She whispered hoarsely. "This was a world with magic. It was supposed to be different- better than the Muggle world. But th-th-there's the same prejudice, the same bigotry, the same- same misogony."

Ginny hugged her friend awkwardly, smoothing her hand through Hermione's bushy hair. She wasn't good at emotions like this. She wasn't her mother- didn't know how to calm down a sobbing witch- didn't know when was the right time to make sympathetic noises or offer tea.

"Er… well… what can you do? That's the world." Ginny shrugged. Apparently, that was the right thing to say because Hermione strieghtened and glared at her.

"We can do something."

"What?"

"We can fight it. Here. Where it first begins."

Ginny sighed and smiled. There was the Hermione she recognized. It would all be alright.

~0~

Dear Mr. Weasley,

I, Ronald Billius Weasely, do humbly and respectfully ask your request to bring one Hermione Jane Granger of sound mind and magic into our-

A blot of ink had fallen obliterating the rest of the sentence. Ron watched as another droplet gathered at the end of his pen, growing full and ripe before falling to the paper. For the past hour, Ron had been camped out in the Letter Room just below the Hogwarts owlery trying to compose the letter he had been meaning to write for the past month.

He was going to ask Hermione to marry him. Well, he was going to ask his father if he could ask Hermione to marry him. It was an unnecessary step, he knew. Merlin, in his mother's eyes, they already were married. This summer she had cornered him in five different times asking about where Hermione was, how she was doing, how Molly already considered her a second daughter, and so clever. But those half hinting conversations, hadn't been as bad as when his dad had taken him aside for a walk outside the Burrow and tried to have 'the talk' with him. As if Ron wasn't acutely aware that his magical core was already stabilizing or that Arthur and Molly had been married before Hogwarts as well.

Ron sighed and let his head thunk against the desk- a headache beginning to pound behind his right eye. Taking a breath, he steadied his mind and looked in himself at his magical core. It was a simple meditation- taught to all wizarding children to help them become familiar with the nature of their magic, understand its strengths, weaknesses, when it was depleted and when it was strongest.

Right now, the moon was waxing gibbeous and Ron's magic was at its height. It was pulsing gently with his heart beats, calming and comforting. Oh, it wasn't the wild, overflowing magic of Harry's. Or the deep well of his sisters. But it was his and it was settling quickly.

A young wizard's- or witch's he amended mentally as Hermione's disembodied voice came to admonish him- magical core was naturally unstable when they were young. Hence the bursts of accidental magic. Hogwarts was originally created to help young wizards learn to control their magic through incantations and wand work. But around the age of sixteen, the magical core began to calm down and look to settle itself into some form of magic- be it family magic or career magic. It was around this time that wizards were encouraged to dedicate themselves to a career and thus give their magic a form to center it around. After all, the magical needs of a dragon tamer, like what his brother Charlie chose, and a curse-breaker, like his brother Bill, were incredibly different. That difference was now reflected in their magical cores. Even professions that didn't require constant magical work changed a core- look at Percy's and how brittle his had become once he joined the ministry. Or how erratic the twins were now that they were opening their own shop.

There was another option though. Instead of dedicating your magic to your career, you could devote it to your family. It was what his parents did. His dad never rose high in the ministry mostly because his magic was devoted to producing his healthy seven children. After all, a child's magical core was partially created by the combination of his parent's. If the parent's magic wasn't focused on the child, they couldn't be very powerful.

Ron sighed and opened his eyes, looked back at the letter. That was the path he wanted to take. No career was jumping out at him- not like it was for Harry and the Auror division. Over the summer, he had realized the thing he wanted more than anything else was a family to call his own. As soon as the thought had passed through his head, his magic had responded strongly. Now it was the only thing he could think of- raising another brood of redheaded Weasleys.

There was only one candidate for the next Mrs. Weasley. Hence the letter. It wouldn't be a bad match, he told himself. His parents like Hermione. He'd grown up with her. He was in continue awe of her brains and drive. He knew they shared similar views on life and good and evil.

It was just- his magic didn't react to her. Not like the way he had hoped. He had grown up listening to his parent's story of how they had met. Molly had turned sixteen and cast a tickling charm at one of her friends and Arthur's magic had just… reacted to the feel of it. Ron's magic didn't do much of anything when Hermione transfigured rocks into fish and back again.

"Argh!" He groaned and threw down his pen in disgust. It broke and the ink seeped across the page, blotting out the rest of the words. Bugger. Now he'd have to start all over. If only his core wasn't settling. If only he had more time to think about things. But if he didn't propose to Hermione quickly and their magics joined before his was settled- eh. Maybe it was stupid to want a romance like that. But all the best wizarding marriages were made before the couple's cores had settled fully.

"Are you alright?"

A familiar voice sounded from his left and Ron raised his head to see Lavander Brown standing beside him, brow creased in concern. Her brown hair was pulled back away from her face and he never realized that she had a very pretty chin under the rounder cheeks. Bugger. He'd been having thoughts like that about any eligible witch as soon as he realized his goal in life.

"Eh. Fine."

"Mmm…" With a half smile she took in the scene, "You don't sound fine. Writers block?"

"More like writers prison." Ron muttered as he snatched up the letter and crumpled it into a ball. He didn't want anyone to see the letter when he could help it. He paused when she laughed.

"What?" His voice was belligerent. She looked slightly taken aback.

"What? That was funny. The writers block-prison- sorry. Wasn't that a joke?"

Ron relaxed and decided to vanish the paper rather than just chucking it into the bin. It was a useless bit of magic, but he felt like doing it all of a sudden.

"Sorry," He said as he pulled out his wand. "I've got a bit of a headache."

"Oh." She pulled out her wand as well. It was nicely polished. Ron suddenly wished he had put a bit more time into his wand upkeep. "Episkey." The headache that had been pounding behind Ron's eye suddenly vanished, replaced instead by a cool sense of relief. He dropped his own wand.

"I didn't know you were studying Medi-mancy."

"Oh." She shrugged. "I'm taking an elective this semester. I don't want to go work for St. Mungo's or anything. But a housewitch ought to know some basic medical magic in addition to everything else. You know, it's always annoyed me that Hogwarts doesn't teach a basic house management course."

"Yeah, that's what my mum always says." He remembered the bit of paper infront of him and vanished it quickly. "She's always complaining about how my brothers graduated knowing how to tell a Grindilow from a Swampkin but don't know a simple charm to keep their shirts pressed." Lavender nodded emphatically.

"I know. And I mean- you can learn charms from the book- but you can technically do that with all our classes. But there's so much more- how to keep in the cycles of the year, rituals to keep the garden gnomes out of the tomatoes, how to care for a house elf- not that we have one, but still. And the fun stuff. Parties and etiquette and-" She cut herself off suddenly. "Sorry. I tend to get a bit mental about this sort of stuff."

"It's alright." Ron shrugged. He could prattle on about quidditch long enough to grant someone else the same courtesy. "So you want to be a housewitch after Hogwarts?"

"Yes." There was no trace of shame in her voice. "I've always wanted to be- ever since I was little. I mean, I might do some runic readings on the side for fun, but I only really came to Hogwarts to-" She broke off again and pink tinged her cheeks.

"Oh look- you broke your quills. Here. Why don't you borrow mine? To finish your letter. I've got to go. Bye." Before Ron could argue that the Letter Room was well stocked with quills, a lovely raven feather one was shoved into his hand and Lavender all but sprinted out the door.

Strange girl. Ron dismissed the incident with a shrug and pulled another sheet of parchment towards him.

Dear Father-

He paused again, breath caught in his throat. His magic was dancing in his core.