Disclaimer: J.K.'s stuff & things. No money or Snapey for me.
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"'Mione… how could you? He's twice your age! And Snape!"
Hermione was infinitely glad she'd had this discussion in the privacy of her own silence-charmed home. She sighed and leaned back into the plushness of her sofa.
"Ronald, you're missing the point." Ron Weasley no more than opened his mouth to reply before snapping it shut again as he was cut off. Silently fuming, he gestured for her to get on with it as he paced around the room.
"I'm not actually marrying Snape. I'm not actually marrying anyone that someone else tells me to marry."
"But it's the law. They'll snap your wand." He stopped pacing, and his dumbfounded expression only fueled her ire. "You can't leave us, Hermione. Come on. I could make it work!"
"Did we free ourselves from Voldemort only to be oppressed by the Ministry? Their scare tactics might work better if they'd ever protected us from him in the first place. I won't do it. Not in the name of repopulation, or political correctness, or lower Squib ratios. If you think people were annoyed by S.P.E.W., they'll sure hate what I've got in mind next."
"What, P.E.T.S: People for the Ethical Treatment of Snape?" Ron's grin faded from his face after a few seconds, and he returned to a more serious tone. "Don't you think you're getting a little carried away with this? It's not even that bad. You still get to pick, you just have a little bit smaller pool of eligible bachelors to choose from."
"Don't you ever read between the lines, Ronald? The fine print? The endgame? Soon they'll be telling us what job, broom, and children we'll have. But seriously – did you read all the Marriage Law documentation?"
To his credit, the youngest male Weasley flushed. "Um. Well, I read most of it. The important bits… Percy explained it, but I figured I'd just be marrying you anyway and I knew you qualified for me, and…"
"Okay, Ron. There's a lot of little loopholes and caveats, but the gist of what you need to immediately know is this: If you don't choose, or your choice doesn't "match", someone else ultimately chooses for you."
Ron sank into her beaten-up armchair and ran a hand through his red hair, which stood up like flames shooting from his shell-shocked face. Years of Hermione's studying, advice, and homework help, coupled with her textbook-regurgitating memory and record NEWT scores, left no doubt in Ron's mind that she might have simply misunderstood the information.
"So I need to-"
"Find someone eligible that you don't hate – preferably someone with similar life plans to yours – and make a Declaration of Interest as a last resort. Then keep looking while you help us break this thing."
"Us?"
He took the piece of metal she held out to him – one of the old charmed coins from their DA days.
"I'll fill you in when I know more – and after I have a certain experienced party sweep the house for additional ears." Ron nodded. "Just in case. Not that I'm not already careful, but-"
"I know, 'Mione." He pulled her into a trademark Weasley hug – the best of hugs – and gave her hand a squeeze as he pulled back.
"You know, it's gonna be kinda nice fighting the system again. For old times' sakes. I mean, I wish we didn't have to, and the stakes are high, but… we beat You-Know-Who, you know?"
His head was bowed as he walked to the fireplace, but the corner of a grin poked out as he took his pinch of Floo powder.
"The Burrow!"
The flames shifted to green, and he turned briefly before disappearing into the fire.
"So Snape's coming over to inspect your security? Is that what they're calling it, these days?"
"You cheeky little-"
She had half a mind to Floo-call back and tell Mrs. Weasley.