Chapter Two: The Letter
The Prophet was full of articles about the Marriage Law. Hermione flicked through the paper while waiting in line for coffee at the small shop in Diagon. There was a spike in the sale of love potions- that was no surprise, anyone could have predicted that. There were rumors of a spate of kidnappings to provide half-blood brides to pureblood heirs. No actual names of any kidnapped women were mentioned, making the claim highly dubious. Polling for the law was fifty-two percent positive, forty-one percent negative, with seven percent undecided- who were these undecided idiots? And a rash of engagement announcements to beat the deadline. It was coming in this week, and no amount of research, petitioning, and protesting had done a single damn thing. And her proposal for alternate means of encouraging reproduction was still waiting on a hearing. She was fuming by the time she got to the counter and ordered her Monday indulgence of a vanilla latte.
"Six sickles, miss," the clerk said, and Hermione started to rummage through her bag.
"I'll take care of the lady's coffee," a voice behind her said, and Hermione stilled. She knew that voice, even though she hadn't heard it in years. Even though it was now the voice of a grown man rather than a boy.
Hermione slowly turned to the man behind her. "Hello Draco."
"And anything for you sir?" the clerk asked Malfoy.
"The same," Malfoy said and slid a galleon over the counter. He smiled at Hermione. "You're looking well, Hermione."
He was too, as much as she did not like to admit it. He wore a soft grey jumper that brought out the silver in his eyes, and he was both taller and stronger looking than the last time Hermione saw him. But more so than that he looked healthier, like he was sleeping and eating regularly. That was simply as far as she would allow her thoughts to go in regards to Malfoy's appearance.
The lattes came up and he handed hers over. "Thank you," Hermione said, and took a sip of the coffee. "You didn't have to do this," she said. "I do have the money to buy my own coffee."
Malfoy shrugged and gave half a smile to her. "Consider it as much a peace offering as six sickles can buy."
"Not a marriage proposal?" Hermione asked pointedly. Malfoy gave a harsh laugh.
"No, not a marriage proposal." He shook his head. "My father is currently at Wizegmont, using a fabricated family tree to try to claim that I am a half-blood and therefore am exempt from the law." He laughed, a half cynical sound. "It won't work and everyone knows it but him."
"You don't sound like you're against the law," Hermione said, and immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry," she said, "that was tactless of me."
"This isn't exactly a Monday morning conversation," Malfoy said and shook his head. "Suffice it to say that I am upset for other people's sake."
"Wouldn't you say you deserve a chance to marry for love too?" Hermione pressed.
"If anyone deserves happiness, I'm far down in the queue," Malfoy said, and studied the gold watch at his wrist. "I apologize, I must be off. I'll see you around, Hermione." He walked out of the coffee shop towards the Leaky. Hermione sipped a bit more out of her latte so it wouldn't be too full, then apparated away to the Ministry. She had much work to do.
Hermione was able to lose herself in work until it was time for lunch. She went down to the cafeteria to meet up with Ron. She was puzzling over the meeting with Malfoy that morning. Had it been a coincidence, or did he mean to see her? And what did he mean by a peace offering? He had sent a written apology years ago after his trial. But she had thought that was a formality, and had avoided him the few times she saw him in public. And where was he going off to? He didn't work at the Ministry, but being awake at a coffee shop on a Monday morning was not a habit of rich layabouts.
Ron was already at the table, working through his sandwich.
"You look preoccupied," he said. "Marriage law again?"
"Oh- yes," she said, not ready to share what had happened. It wasn't really even anything- just out of her expectations. She started to eat in silence.
"You know they'll be announcing matches at the end of this week," Ron said after a few minutes. He was watching her carefully like he expected her rage.
Hermione traced the spoon that had come with her soup. She knew what Ron was about to ask her, and they might as well get it over with. "Ronald-" Hermione said.
"We should at least talk about it, Hermione."
Hermione couldn't fault him with that. He was right. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's talk."
Ron's rigid posture relaxed just a little bit. "I know we ended it because we're better as friends," Ron said. "But this law means you could be paired with anyone. Don't you think it's better to be married to someone who cares about you than someone who wants to hurt you?"
"This law is wrong, Ron," Hermione said. She was tired of this conversation. This wasn't the first time Ron had brought up the topic, but never so bluntly. "I'm not going to do anything with this law without a fight."
"I'm not arguing that the law's not wrong," Ron said. His voice was patient and soothing. He was speaking to her like he used to in school when she was freaking out over an exam, or later when they dated when she would explode with frustration about work. "Of course it's bloody wrong. I don't expect you not to fight it. I'm still fighting it. But there's less than a week left before you're bound to whoever they match you with."
The matter of fact way he was speaking was galling. It was like he had already surrendered.
"You just don't want to have to do the work of wooing a woman," Hermione shot back. Even as she said it she realized that it was a low blow. Ron's face flashed with hurt and annoyance, and then he shook his head.
"If you won't protect yourself by marrying me, then I hope you bloody well choose someone else," he said and stood. He stormed out of the cafeteria. Hermione watched him go, frustrated with him but mostly with herself. Ron was being a good friend. He was trying to protect her. Why did she have to be such a bitch to him?
Romilda Vane two tables over was watching Ron. She then turned towards Hermione and gave a giant wink. Hermione sourly vanished her soup. She was no longer in the mood for lunch.
Ron made a fair point, as angry as Hermione was to acknowledge it. She should, practically speaking, have a backup plan. But Hermione had this searing feeling that if she were to accept a backup plan, it would dilute the power of what she was going to attempt. The only way she could be successful was to continue her single-minded focus. Making a match was tantamount to giving up. She had pulled out so many impossible victories in her twenty-four years of life. What was one more?
Ron would not understand. Ron would worry about her. But Ron needed to worry first about himself- Romilda Vane was after him, it would seem, and she needed to warn him about her. He couldn't hold out for her. Somehow she had to make him accept that. And if she was unsuccessful, the Ministry would hopefully not pair her with anyone too vile.
Hopefully.
Hermione has not slept properly for days. Just an hour here, three hours there. If she did not make progress soon then the law might actually move into effect, in which case her gamble of not choosing a partner would cost her. If only her proposal would be approved for a hearing. Lucius Malfoy's proposal that his son was a half-blood had been heard. It had been rejected- the gossip swiftly and gleefully ringing down the halls of the Ministry. But if Lucius Malfoy's ridiculous business deserved a hearing then surely her well-researched work did as well.
She was at work when she received an answer. An official ministry owl landed on her desk and hooted at her late Friday morning, interrupting her bleary research into old bylaws. Her heart was in her throat. This was it. The answer she had been waiting for. She opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
Dear Miss Granger,
It has come to our attention that you have yet to register an approved marriage with a pureblood. Therefore, you have been assigned a match to an unattached male pureblood between the ages of 20 and 45. Your future husband is:
Draco Malfoy
A meeting has been arranged between the two of you for next Tuesday at 2:30pm. As a ministry employee, you have been excused from any duties.
We hope this letter finds you well.
Sincerely,
Sharon Misti
Assistant Undersecretary of Marriage
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Hermione was certain that it was the sleep deprivation that had caused her to imagine such an absurd letter. She should go off in search of Harry or Ron to read her letter. They'd tell her the contents. But other owls were flying through the office. People were reacting with sighs or hoots or cheers. She rubbed her eyes and reread the letter once, then twice. The words were the same.
She had known she was taking a risk with not choosing a pairing. But she had thought that if a decision was made for her, then history and personality would be taken into account. How could she possibly marry Malfoy. Hermione hurriedly stood up from her desk and slipped on her coat. She had some thinking to do, and she wasn't going to be able to do it at her desk.
She grabbed her bag at the last minute. It was just after four, and she didn't imagine she would be able to return to her work. Instead she slipped out into the atrium, keeping her head down so that no one would greet her. Everyone was so wrapped up in their own conversations she found it easy to sneak out.
She apparated out as soon as she was past security and the anti-apparation wards. She emerged near Round Pound at Kensington Garden and set out for a walk, hoping to perhaps find a nearby tea vendor.
Draco Malfoy. It seemed too great a coincidence that she should run into him earlier this week and now she would be married to him. But the magical community was not large, and she ran into people all of the time. He could have simply seen her and tried to smooth things over in the event they did get matched. But how could things between them ever be a partnership? How could she enter into an alliance with Draco Malfoy? He might have apologized, but that did not take away the harm of what he had done. She didn't know if anything could.
There was a tea truck on a nearby road and Hermione hurried over to it. She ordered a tea with sugar and paid for her own, watching carefully for any hint of ice blond hair. The heat of the first sip washed over her and it momentarily made everything feel relief in her body. Maybe this would be her life now. She would only find pleasure in small moments because her life would be intolerable. She had fought so long and so hard to build a better, more equal society. And that society had turned around and spat in her face.
Hermione resumed her walking, weaving now through the streets of London. She would have to be married to him. She had to live with him- oh gods. She would not return to the manor. No. She would insist on that. If he wanted to live with her he could bloody well sleep on the sofa in her flat, because she would never step foot there again. And when he insisted she would make it unpleasant. She could cause an uproar. She could go to the papers. His position was tenuous enough, and he would have to blink. Yes. If she was going to succeed in this marriage she would need a war chest. She'd have to tell Harry and Ron- who else would be with her?
Ron. She hadn't even asked him yet if he had gotten a letter. She sighed. She had promised to meet Harry, Ron, and Ginny for dinner at Grimmauld Place tonight. All she wanted to do was be alone and plan. But it had been too long since she had seen them, and besides, they deserved to hear it from her.
She pushed aside her guilt. She could deal with that later. She chuckled darkly at the thought of adding "feel guilt" to her mental to-do list. Perhaps Luna was correct. Perhaps she should see a mind healer. Yet another thing to take care of later. Along with finally figuring out how to eat as an adult without elves or parents, getting regular exercise, repealing the law, finally decorating her flat-
Why couldn't she have ended up with someone like Ernie Macmillan? Or even Zacharias Smith? The sun was starting to set and the lamps were being lit. It was a magical moment, when life slowed down and she could properly appreciate how lovely it was for just a bit. But only for a bit. It was only ever a respite for a bit. A respite from her future where she would be Draco Malfoy's wife.
As soon as it was dark enough she stepped behind a tree and apparated to the step of Grimmauld Place. In the past few years Grimmauld Place had become a much lighter, brighter home. Some of that was Kreacher's improved motivation, some Ginny's influence. Hermione reminded herself that she was going to ask Ginny to help decorate her flat. She added that once again to her mental list. Perhaps she ought to start writing all of this down.
She let herself into the house and walked directly down to the kitchen. Kreacher was bustling around, pulling a covered dish out of the wood-burning stove.
"Shepherd's pie again?" Hermione asked. Perhaps her voice was a bit sharp. She tried to soften it. "It smells quite good."
"Roast chicken today, Miss," Kreacher said.
"We're on a moratorium of shepherds pie," Ginny said, stepping out of the pantry. She was carrying a bottle of wine and four wine glasses were hovering behind her. "How are you doing?"
Hermione opened her mouth to tell Ginny instinctively that she was fine, that she would be fine, but the words didn't come out. Ginny put down the bottle and walked towards Hermione.
"What happened? What's wrong?"
"It seems like they're already assigning marriages," Hermione said after several large gasps of air. Ginny grasped her hand.
"Who did you get, Hermione?"
Hermione shook her head. If she said it then it was real in a way she could not take back. She produced the letter from her bag. Ginny grabbed it and glanced over it, then gasped.
"No." Ginny's face was open with shock. "You have to marry Malfoy?"
"There has to be a way to appeal this. Ron was right. I should have made a plan."
Ginny wrapped Hermione in an enormous hug, and Hermione grabbed Ginny back.
"I was an idiot," Hermione said, her voice thick.
"You were idealistic," Ginny argued. "Come on."
Ginny grabbed a corkscrew and started to open the bottle of wine. She poured Hermione an enormous pour, and Hermione drank it greedily.
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked after she felt like she could speak. Ginny topped her glass back up.
"He and Ron should be finishing up with their last-minute intramural Quidditch league match any moment."
"Miss will be marrying the Malfoy boy?" Kreacher said happily, as the floo fired up and Ron stepped out.
"Merlin no!" Ron said his face dropping. Hermione shook her head. Ron immediately crossed over to her and grasped her into a large hug.
"What are we going to do?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'll just have to appeal," Hermione said. "Surely no one would think that it is a good idea."
The floo fired once again and Harry stepped out. "Mm, it smells delicious in here. Hey, Hermione. How- are you okay?"
"The Miss is getting married to young Master Malfoy!" Kreacher proclaimed. Harry stared. It seemed that he did not believe Kreacher, because he glanced over at Hermione. She shook her head, and suddenly she had burst into tears.
She was escorted by Ginny over to the table, where she sat, sobbing. And her friends let her. It was a nice thing about them. They had known her long enough to know that she didn't want to be comforted. Kreacher was dismissed, and they waited until her sobs had slowed down.
"We're going to figure this out, Hermione," Ron finally said, "but first, we are going to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"When was the last time you ate a proper meal?" Ginny asked steadily. Hermione could not quite remember.
"You'll feel better after eating," Ginny said. "You can't be as effective when you're hungry."'
"Appealing to rationality is an unfair tactic," Hermione sniffed. Harry grasped her hand.
"Ginny's full of unfair tactics. Come on."
She allowed her plate to be filled with roast chicken and roast potatoes and a salad and then she ate. She intended to only have enough so that she could say she had eaten and that they would work on dissecting what to do next. But after the first bite she found she was very hungry. And she devoured everything on her plate, then took seconds. She had eaten most of her second helping before she wanted to talk.
"There must be an appeal process." She looked up at everyone. "Right?"
Ron rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "Rumor is that they are not allowing appeals."
"I'll make an appointment," Harry promised. "We will appeal for you."
"I shouldn't be able to appeal when everyone else can." Hermione said. She hadn't thought they would not allow appeals.
"Hermione," Ginny said softly, "if anyone has earned the right to appeal it's you."
"But that's not fair!" Hermione said eagerly. "What about everyone else who is assigned a marriage? What about them?"
Ron stabbed his chicken. "Hermione, when you were researching how to repeal the law, most people were coupling up. We can try to appeal it, but I wouldn't be surprised if you got Draco precisely because the pool of available candidates is so small."
"Who were you assigned?"
"I wasn't," said Ron. "I'm marrying Sally Roper."
"Who?" The name was familiar in the way that a song might be that she had heard only once.
"She was a Hufflepuff in our year. We play Quidditch together. She's currently training to be a Healer."
"Do you- like her?"
Ron shrugged. "She's kind. We get along. It could be much worse. She doesn't really have time for a relationship with her Healing training, and you know I'm almost never home. It will be convenient. The ceremony is happening in three weeks. I'd like for you to stand for me."
"Of course," Hermione said. She felt strange not extending the same offer to Ron. But neither did she want to treat any of this like it was normal or expected, like it was worth celebrating.
"When did you make the decision?" she said instead.
"Wednesday," Ron said, and took an enormous bite off a chicken leg. Why hadn't Ron told her at Wednesday dinner? Oh. She had missed it in a blur of filings. She hadn't even dashed off a note to apologize.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I've been a terrible friend."
"You've been a bit busy," said Ron with a wry smile.
"I just- I don't know what to do."
"What we are going to do," Ginny said, "is not talk about this tonight."
"It's easy for you to say. You just move up your wedding date," Hermione snapped.
"That's not what she meant, Hermione," Harry said, and his voice was a warning. Hermione almost never heard Harry like that.
"Hermione even if we spend the entire time talking about it, we can't change anything now," Ginny said patiently. "This is your NEWTS all over again."
"Then what are we going to talk about?" Hermione complained. Ginny was right, and she hated that.
"I was listening to the radio today," Ginny said. "It was the muggle radio. They were discussing some new dance thing. Swan something."
"Swan Lake," Harry said. "It's a ballet. They dance on their toes."
"What if we went? I'd like to see. The music they played was quite pretty."
"A day out in the muggle world?" Ron said. "I'd be in."
"I used to dance in primary school," Hermione said slowly. She had never been a great dancer but she had enjoyed practicing the steps over and over, getting a little closer every time. Her dance stopped when she went to Hogwarts, and she didn't realize how much she had missed it. "My mum always loved the ballet. It's been years since I went and saw one."
"I could buy us tickets," Harry volunteered. "We could have a nice night out."
Ron was soon suggesting restaurants that they could eat at, and Ginny asked Hermione about shopping. Hermione asked Ginny, finally, if she wouldn't mind helping decorate the flat. Ginny was happy to, which was one less thing on the mental list. Kreacher brought out a lemon loaf and tea after he cleared away the dinner. She left Grimmauld late that evening a little tipsy and quite tired.
Appeal the marriage. Feed Crookshanks- that one was easy. If only everything else could be. She had to do some research on her new- she could not call him her finance. She had to learn more about Draco Malfoy.
a/n So I meant to get this one out quickly, and then- 2020 happened. I've learned my lesson about promising quick turnarounds, but I hope to get this next chapter out sooner than this one. In the meantime, please stay safe and make sure to wear a mask.