Hermione had risen early and prepared herself. She was going to have a lengthy meeting and possibly some opportunities to schmooze with a few more Wizengamot chairs if she could manage. That was all on top of her usual workload; it was going to be a long day. The witch was about to leave her quarters and shuffle off, grabbing a bite at the Ministry, but her cat had other plans.

Crookshanks took off when she opened the door, and Hermione panicked. If Lucius did indeed have words to say, he might do something rash. A poisonous cat treat came to mind as she bolted after the furball and up the staircase to the next floor. "Here, Crooksie. Psst, Psst, pretty kitty," she whispered as the animal disappeared from her view.

The witch saw a couple of open doors and scrunched her nose- this wasn't a positive sign. Hermione slid her heels off so she would make less sound and wandered over to the opened doors. It wasn't until she heard giggling that Hermione followed it to the door open on the left side of the corridor. The scene was tender and hurt her in ways only thoughts had previously. Crookshanks was on a smaller bed and weaving around the tiny child as it giggled and petted him. "Pretty kitty," Scorpius whispered, sleep still in his voice.

The cat saw her and meowed loudly before curling up on the bed next to the child. Hermione wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't leave the feline in here, but she didn't want to disturb Scorpius.

"Miny," Scorpius said and glanced over at the door. "Kitty cat," he told her.

"I know, he's my kitty, but I have to put him to bed before I go to work," Hermione whispered as she walked into the room.

"Work?"

Hermione just motioned agreement as she attempted to pick up the cat.

"No, my kitty," Scorpius huffed with a pout.

Crookshanks didn't budge as he purred. "Come on, Crooks. Mummy has to go," she coaxed.

"Granger, what the fuck are you doing?" Draco's gravely voice caused her to jump.

Hermione turned and blinked at the nearly nude wizard as he wiped his face. She wasn't ogling! No. The witch cast her gaze to the ground and hemmed. "Crookshanks took off and found his way in here. I was only retrieving my cat, so nothing happens to him."

His feet were in her view as he approached her. "Well, he looks happy. I'll put him away later. I won't let your ugly feline get hurt," Draco murmured.

Hermione was relieved for the lighting in the room being so dim. She felt mortified by the whole situation. "Oh, alright," she muttered, still keeping her gaze at anywhere but the wizard looming in front of her. What the fuck was wrong with her?

"Still a conservative priss? Fine, well, go to work, I need more sleep and so does my son," Draco mused as he yawned.

Her eyes snapped up to him, and he was grinning stupidly at her. "Goodbye, Malfoy," she retorted and moved to leave, but he sidestepped in front of her.

A finger went to a mere centimeter from her nose, and she blinked. "Don't work too hard on this. I don't need to inherit a cat because you keel over."

She would have been appalled and quite furious if she didn't see a mild amount of concern surface on his face. "I won't. I just need to do something," she exhaled with a nod.

"Okay," he replied and stepped out of her way.

Hermione nearly bolted from the room, not even gazing back to check on her cat. She scooped up her shoes at the end of the hall and looked back to see Draco was watching her. His expression was blank as he nodded and waved her off. Without acknowledging the gesture, she turned and left the third floor.

Her day was filled with relieving highs and toss up lows. Hermione was at a low point as she sat next to Kingsley and a few of the chairmen in the Wizengamot. They had spent the last ten minutes going over the successful pairings thus far that have reported positive on their situations.

"When several witches choose a single candidate, there's a simple answer; ask him out of the potential pairings which would be a lasting relationship for him as well," The older witch said with a nod.

"There aren't going to be many that seek out former death eaters or rivals, Griselda," Hermione conveyed with a frown.

"Ah, yes, but you chose one, Hermione," Kingsley reminded her.

"Under principal! I chose the one wizard no witch would march forward and say she would choose other than for fortune," Hermione huffed with a glare.

"Which several other witches had stated their interest in before his removal from the list," John Dawlish declared with a scowl.

Hermione pressed her fingers firmly to her brow. "Listen, I'm only here to argue the profanity of it all. You're demanding veterans of war to participate in forced copulation. How is that any different than choosing between bloodlines?"

"Hermione, we all know the difficulties you have with this. We understand why this is so hard, but can't you let us attempt to heal the wounds of the past and move forward? If it turns out in the trial period that marriage and children are not sound for these couplings, then we will incorporate a better way," Kingsley said gently, drawing Hermione's attention.

She glanced at the others at the table and felt numb. They all were pushing this so terribly firm. "What is wrong with letting everyone sort it out?" Hermione questioned.

Kingsley glanced over at the near silent Minerva who was twisting slightly in her chair. "Well, Hermione," Kingsley sighed and hemmed. "We have it under authority that the roster for Hogwarts potential students in the coming decade will be down so far that the school will be nearly barren. That's not even two students for every house if that… we are looking at a crisis here," the minister finished.

McGonnall pulled out the book from under the table and flipped it open. "This is nine years from now," she murmured.

Hermione pulled the volume over, and her eyebrows crawled toward her hairline. Albus, Scorpius, and three other children were on there… for just one year. She flipped to the year before and it was two students. The year before that was three. Merlin…

"Oh," Hermione mumbled.

"You see unless we start to heal the wounds of the past, Hogwarts may not be able to remain open," Griselda murmured as she pointed her crooked finger toward the book.

"Then why not say anything to everyone? Tell them instead of implementing this insane bill!" Hermione said with a glare.

"I did not come out of retirement to see our government disintegrate under our heels, girl," Griselda huffed and sat back in her chair.

"The point," John interrupted Hermione's building anger. "Is that unless we pose an alternative, and press the importance of connecting those struggling to reach out and attempt something, we failed. We chose the witches because they are the reason we aren't able to get this boat up and running again, Hermione. They are choosing not to have children." He finished, and Hermione cringed at his last sentence. "That doesn't imply you," he corrected with a pout.

"We could offer benefits to bring in families from abroad. I heard the American schools are overpopulated!" Hermione pointed out with a huff.

"We've done that," Kingsley mumbled and waved his finger. "The ministries of several governments are working with us to see if we can tempt some of their families, but it still isn't going to be enough. The fact is, we are in need of everyone's participation. If you feel it's too soon, I understand, but not enough to stop this bill. If you want me to make an exception due to what happened," he paused when Hermione slammed her hands down on the table and stood up.

"I will have you know; I do not need an exemption from any law, minister. I have no interest in choosing a partner, that is the sum of it." Hermione huffed.

"Miss Granger, please sit down," Minerva sighed and reached for her teacup. "I understand how you feel and have immense sympathy for your plight. You are being asked to deal with something, not even a year after. We are only asking you to cease fire on your desperate attempts to end the beginning of this. I don't agree with this bill, and won't, but until we come up with something better, we will need all minds working at full capacity."

Hermione sat down and exhaled with a nod. "Alright. May I offer a counter?" Hermione inquired.

Kingsley arched an eyebrow and nodded. "We're listening."

"I think that we should let the wizarding community work this out," she paused at John's gruff of displeasure. "By announcing the gravity of the situation in the Daily Prophet, with a new collum for eligible witches and wizards. Inspire, don't constrain," Hermione finished with a nod.

"But this is working!" John snarled while waving a sheet of parchment. "Do you see the number of couples already meeting and enjoying the prospect of getting to know each other?"

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt as she saw Oliver's name next to a Hufflepuff in his year. "Okay," Hermione conceded. "However, if it doesn't work after four months, I respectfully have to interject to a new plan."

Kingsley reached over and touched her arm. "Sometimes, a little demand helps the masses, Hermione. You are one of the exceptions, and we will take those as an opportunity to grow and find them a rightful place. News articles will help, and we plan to use them, but we need to create an incentive. Tempting wizards with gold is meaningless, but offering order and law sometimes matter more. If Mr. Malfoy is not someone you can see yourself with, we can find you someone more suited to you."

Hermione was about to agree, but Griselda waved her finger. "She needs to wait. Just like the rest of them, Kingsley. Two months. If she's not happy in two months, then we will sort it then. She took this stance out of defiance, and I'll be damned if one witch breaks the system. She can't bloody run it if she's breaking the rules."

The minister nodded and turned back to Hermione. "During that time I want you to talk to someone. I never asked that of you before, but it's time. Alright?"

"Four months and you give me the reigns to take care of this mess? That is what I want. If I have to I will leave Britain due to this forced breeding," Hermione warned, and the whole of the table sat stiffer.

Kingsley twitched his nose and exhaled. "You put me in an awkward spot, Miss Granger. You know our plans and getting full support of the Wizengamot was hard enough still. If you leave, you will not be able to run for minister in five years. That's everything you and I have worked toward."

Griselda groaned and nodded. "Okay, girl, you called our bluff. Other than Harry Potter no one would be able to rally and do the job. Four months and you save face for this bill. You help incorporate better ways to handle mismatches and help with this crisis… you can have your freedom to marry a mermaid for all that comes with it. Understood?"

"And," Kingsley added with an index finger up in the air. "You seek help for your pains, Hermione. We need you to be sturdy. No more hiding it. How can you be minster if you are willing to disregard your own needs?"

Hermione glanced at the others at the table and held out her hand to Kingsley. "Four months of this bill and it better be in writing on the proclamation to be renewed or revoked then. I will live with Mr. Malfoy for two, and if I'm still uninspired by our relationship, I will save face and seek another. I will dutifully follow this, under the promise that this council here today, agrees that if our answers aren't given positively by four months, then we will reconvene with the whole of the Wizengamot and sort out an alternative."

"Very diplomatic of you, Miss Granger," John agreed with a nod.

Kingsley nodded and shook her hand. "That's how you work as a Minister of Magic, Miss Granger. Through pain and uncertainty, we will find a way."

"And a lotta whiskey," John snickered with a grin.

"Here, here," Griselda grumbled and nodded.

"As it be known," Kingsley turned to the quill taking notes; a fresh parchment appeared with a seal for the Ministry of Magic. "I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, convey that on June 10th, if we have not seen progress in our Magical Reclamation Bill, then we shall convene on June 11th for a full meeting of the Wizengamot. We will have several articles of consideration before deciding as a whole, what article we shall choose to move forward, declaring the Magical Reclamation Bill null and void. Miss Hermione Granger, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, will serve as the administrator on the future bills and proclamations for said articles. The new bill will be set forth on June 18th, for a vote by the Wizengamot." Kingsley finished and nodded to the parchment.

It slid in front of him, and he took his quill, signing it. The minister handed her the feather, and she signed under his name, her title appearing under her signature. The remaining chairmen at the table all repeated such until the paper was set in the middle of the table. It replicated with the wave of Kingsley's wand, and the door slid open. "Make sure that every member of the Wizengamot receives a copy. Along with all branches of the ministry," Kingsley murmured, and Percy walked into the room.

"Of course, Minister," he said and nodded to Hermione.

Percy left with the stack, and the door closed again. "I appreciate you letting me express my discontent about the bill without judgment," Hermione expressed to the room.

"Oh, you're spirited, girl. We love that about you. This is just closer to home, but with that comes the responsibility to all. You're on the right track, but government has to go by trial and error, even if we don't always agree with the first steps," Griselda responded with a nod.

"And you can't throw your weight around too much, Granger. You don't weigh enough to stun us," John snickered with a smile.

Minerva stood up with a nod. "You may have a lot to learn, Miss Granger, but we all know you have it in you to do the right thing for all. Not many would stand behind a woman who just throws tantrums for the sake of them," she said as she straightened her robes. "I have to get back to Hogwarts before Horace thinks he has taken over fully as Headmaster. I look forward to updates."

Hermione was plum colored as she hemmed. "My apologies, Headmistress. My passions ran away with me."

"As do they all for the bright ones," John teased with a grin.

"You, Mr. Dawlish, have not lost your impeccable timing to put your foot in your mouth," McGonagall quipped with the tiniest of smiles.

Kingsley patted Hermione's shoulder and huffed. "We have tons of work to get back to, Miss Granger. Let's be off to our scheduled reports, shall we?"

"We shall," Hermione agreed, and the meeting adjourned with a mere smidgen of hope Hermione had not had going into it.

Draco was sitting with a book as he listened to his mother teach his son the alphabet. It wasn't going as she had planned, but it was laughable and sweet. He was taking a break from his work and needed a bit of grounding. The furry animal posted on the edge of the sofa wandered over and stretched in his lap. Presumptuous animal…

"Cat starts with," Narcissa held up the block with a 'C.'

"Poop!" Scorpius giggled and raised his hand.

Narcissa sighed and shook her head. "A 'C,' not a poop, silly boy," she laughed.

"Dog starts with," She repeated the process with the 'D' block.

"Doggie woof!" Scorpius giggled.

"You're stubborn like your father," Narcissa murmured and caressed the boy's face.

"And his mother," Draco interjected.

Narcissa glanced over at her son with the giant cat in his lap. He was stroking the feline as he read. It wasn't a usual novel he took to; he was reading a Care of Magical Creatures volume.

"Thinking about adopting a unicorn, son?" Narcissa questioned.

Draco arched his eyebrow while retaining his vision on the book. "Granger's cat is half Kneazle, and I wanted to make sure he didn't carry diseases that Scorpius could catch."

"Oh," Narcissa said and then blinked. "Oh," she repeated catching her son's attention finally.

"You wanted a cat; we could get one just like hers when she leaves. He's a nice lap warmer," Draco responded and stroked the purring animal.

"He seems to like you," she mused.

"I suppose it has to do with the liking he has taken to my son. Granger was trying to pry the animal away from him early this morning," Draco mumbled as he set the book down.

"Oh," Narcissa murmured.

"Oh!" Scorpius exclaimed and held the block with an 'O,' on it.

Narcissa turned and clapped. "Good show, that's an 'O,' like 'Oh, your daddy is being Odd!'"

"Would you stop saying oh!" Draco hissed, and Crookshanks grumbled in disagreement.

"She is a nice girl. A bit unorthodox, but she might be a decent acquaintance," Narcissa offered when she turned back to Draco.

"Mother, the only thing Granger and I have in common is where we went to school. Would you please for the love of Salazar stop with your beating around the Quidditch post and tell me what you're asking?"

Narcissa swooped her hair from her face and scowled. "Draco, she is here for the next two months. Can you at least be nice to the girl? I happen to think she is in over her head."

"I hope you're talking about the house elf," Lucius's voice interrupted the moment.

Crookshanks hissed loudly and hopped off the sofa, causing Draco to wince at his propelled escape. "Yes, father, unlike the rest of the world, we are busy speaking about house elf job accuracy." Draco scathed with a roll of his eyes.

The cat stretched out next to the child who hugged on the beast. "Pretty kitty. Dad, is Miny?" Scorpius questioned.

"She's at work," Draco growled through his teeth.

Lucius topped to the couch with a grimace and exhaled as he gazed down at his wife. "This room is stuffy. It smells like… mudblood," Lucius sneered, only goading his son further.

Scorpius shook his head. "Bad word," he whispered.

Lucius scowled and pointed his fury at Draco. "You're teaching him that's a bad word?"

"It is!" Draco snapped and shoved his father away from him.

"No son of mine is going to marry a muddied blood witch," Lucius warned.

"I'm glad we cleared that up, Lucius," Hermione's voice thrummed in the room.

She drew the attention of everyone in the room, including the cat, who pranced over to greet her. "Hello, baby," she cooed and bent down to pet the animal.

"Miny! Dis bock!" Scorpius shouted and raced over to her, handing her the 'C' block.

Hermione smirked and touched the boy's shoulder. "Oh, yes. 'C' is for cantankerous like your grandfather."

Narcissa covered up her smile, and Lucius bristled. "What are you doing here?" He spat.

"Kingsley sent me home early after we finished a bulk of my reports. I thought I would express my gratitude to your family and cook for you tonight," Hermione murmured, glancing over at the adults.

Scorpius hung on the crouched witch and tugged her hair lightly. "Kitty, an bocks, an wissh!" the boy explained with a hand in the air.

Hermione grinned brightly and nodded before lifting him. "Well, sounds to me like you worked harder than I did today. Lots to learn and only so much time. Shall I have dinner on the table at half past six?" She finished as she directed her attention to the stunned adults.

"We have a house elf," Lucius huffed.

"Well, I put in the laws to give house elves evenings off, and I plan to ask kindly if you would tell her to take tonight off so I could cook, please?" Hermione asked politely over the murmurings of the child in her arms.

Draco blinked and hemmed. "Minky."

The small house elf blinked into existence and bowed. "Yes, Master Malfoy, Minky is here to serve Master."

"You can take tonight off," he said without turning his gaze away from the witch.

"Is Minky in trouble? Did Minky do wrong?" The house elf cringed and tucked her ears over her eyes.

"No, I just want you not to cook tonight. Miss Granger would like to," Draco declared, finally turning to the elf.

The elf blinked and glanced at the smiling witch. "Miss Granger, are you mad at Minky's cooking?"

"No, Minky, I just enjoy cooking too sometimes," Hermione assured the house elf.

"Minky will do extra work and clean the gutters, Master Malfoy," Minky said with a nod.

Draco smirked over at the scowling witch holding his son. "If you would like to, Minky."

Hermione turned her nose up and set the boy down. "Dinner will be at half past six," she huffed and left the sitting room with annoyance.