The Real Answer
by FlocksOfTurtles
(originally written January 26, 2004)
Revised July 20, 2004
As Hermione unfolded the Daily Prophet, the blood drained from her face. The Ministry had passed the Marriage Act. It had been hotly debated from both sides, with pure-blood wizards being disgusted by the very idea of intermixing bloodlines and Muggleborns screaming, "Slavery!" Apparently neither science nor the will of the general population had any affect on the Ministry's decision.
Harry and Ron were talking about today's upcoming quidditch match with Hufflepuff, oblivious to her concerns. A quick glance across the high table showed passing sympathy from several of the female teachers and a pinched, frozen look on Professor McGonagall's face. Professor Flitwick looked overjoyed. Professor Snape was sneering and scowled as he caught her looking at him.
Hermione returned to reading the details. Obviously it was a good idea to get the paper so she could get the news directly. Last week the Headmaster had taken her aside and cheerfully informed her that children were always a blessing and she was extremely fortunate that she could be wed so quickly and easily after the law was passed. Hermione had decided on the spot that it would be important to get impartial information, or as impartial as it was possible to receive. Surprisingly, the complete text of the new wizarding law was printed on a continuing page. She turned to read the specifics amid the hum and buzz of breakfast in the Great Hall.
Words leapt from the page and burned themselves into her mind. A witch was to marry within thirty days of receiving an offer, with her head of family choosing between multiple offers (the Ministry would serve that function for any witches without family) and setting the date. The majority of the text outlined a bound witch's remaining rights and gave specific requirements for the amount and types of sexual intercourse. A bound witch would be required to service her husband daily without contraceptives, even if she was 80 years old, or already had 20 children. It got worse. There was no sunset provision to the law; it would not be automatically rescinded when the population stabilized or after a certain number of years. This would doom any children born into a society with such a law to the same fate. Hermione didn't recognize the binding ritual, but most ceremonial magic was permanent. The binding was a life sentence. Even if the law was repealed, she could not be set free. Finally, the limits of Hermione's horror were reached: "In the event of the wizard's death, the witch will be free--" there was a line break, as a tease to hope-- "to accept new offers under the same provisions originally decreed."
As Hermione's mother and father had been killed, she realized the Ministry would be selecting a wizard to be her husband. Thoughts of possible choices ran through her mind. It was a litany of worst possible choices when she thought of who had the power to influence that kind of decision. The newly-widowed Lucius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Crabb. Goyle. Neville. Percy Weasley. Professor Snape! Or worse, it might not even be someone totally human. Professor Flitwick had been thrilled. Her mind replayed the expressions on the faces of the teachers and dread sank in.
Sucking in her breath and deciding she needed to know exactly how bad it could get, Hermione continued reading. Witches who did not comply would have their wands snapped. Hermione expected they would also have their memories modified, as that was the common practice. Asterisks led her to the note saying that the wizarding communities in continental Europe, various parts of Asia, and America were all signing extradition and compliance treaties as of the time of the announcement. Escape was a forlorn hope anyway since the wizarding world functioned on the who-you-know principle. Hiding her background would mean a lack of recommendations and would just make her unemployable.
A late owl flew into the Great Hall, dropping a scroll with a Ministry seal in front of Hermione. Warily she cracked it open. "Due to your authorized and recorded use of a time turner (Permit number #3215) you have reached your age of majority. Pursuant to the new Marriage Act and based on your lack of wizarding family, the Ministry has chosen an eligible wizard to be your fiance. You are to report to the Ministry at 11am today for the marriage ceremony in the Ministry temple. Aurors are being sent to escort you to the ceremony or to the Memory Modification department as you choose."
There was no help for it. Professor Dumbledore was in favor of the law and no one else with any power would stand between her and the Ministry. Harry might have done so, but his dreams of getting scouted during the upcoming match took precedence. He had said she should find out who the wizard was and get to know him before September when she would come of age. After all, she might like being married and getting lots of sex. When Hermione had pointed out that contraceptives were forbidden and that the Ministry had tracking charms to enforce the regular consummation of the marriages, Harry had shrugged, saying, "Well, 'Mione, it's only a baby."
Harry did not seem to notice the prejudice against married witches having careers. The bias made sense to Hermione; pregnant witches tended to make various magics unstable and they required a great deal of coddling (even more so than the Muggle women Hermione had seen at her parents' dental practice). Under the new law, it could be assumed that all married witches would require the special treatment. Then they would have children who needed care. No one wanted to hire witches who would suddenly abandon their jobs. There were exceptions, places that employed witches in certain capacities, Hogwarts, and the Ministry, but none of the witches was married. They were probably contractually obligated to remain unmarried, lest they neglect their duties. This law was going to cause a lot of vacancies at the Ministry and Hogwarts when they lost their spinsters. Hermione personally suspected most of the female Hogwarts teachers were lesbians. A sly thought crept in that the law did not make any provisions for sexual preferences. Those teachers who had been thinking only in vague sympathetic terms for their students were going to be in for a rude awakening!
She didn't want to be pregnant at 17, even if the Ministry said she was actually 18. It was still too early! In fact, Hermione was fairly sure that she would never want children. It seemed like a poor trade for all the effort she had put into her studies to abandon it all and become a housewitch. Her mind would be wasted. No wonder Professor Snape had never bothered to praise her skills! He knew she would never amount to anything, no matter what happened. She would abandon the magical world, die in the war, or be married off and become a broodmare. It had been highly unlikely that she would have remained single and thus employable in the face of the overwhelming prejudice. Now even that slim chance was impossible. It really didn't matter who the Ministry had selected for her, Hermione realized. Her life was over. There was nothing she could do to have any control over the situation once she was bound. She had poured over the law's text and not seen anything regarding restrictions on punishments of wifely "transgressions". There were a few suggestions to avoid striking gravid women, so as not to actively countermand the point of the law, but nothing designed to prevent violence. Long-term exposure to discreet bouts of the Imperius Curse would not do her any good either.
A quick glance at Seamus' watch across the table showed that the quidditch match would start in an hour, and the Aurors would be there for her in 90 minutes.
Just then, Ron leaned over and asked if she would be interested in going for butterbeer after the game. Hermione could barely hide her shock at Ron's complete thoughtlessness. He asked what she'd gotten from the Ministry. Too late! She'd forgotten to hide the scroll. He pulled it out of her hands, read it with surprise, then said, "I can't believe they kept track of the extra time. Wait, 'Mione, that's today! They cannot make you miss the game. It's a big deal with the scouts for most of the big teams here. We need you to bring us luck!"
Harry pulled the scroll out of his hands before Hermione could get it back, skimmed it until he saw the time of the meeting. "At least you can see the first half hour of the game. Your ceremony probably won't take very long, but I'll try to catch the snitch quickly so the game will be over by the time you get back to Hogwarts." He passed her parchment back, and smiled at her.
Hermione just blinked at him. He didn't understand that she probably wasn't coming back. There was no point in paying further school fees to educate livestock. In fact, the only way she would be allowed to return to Hogwarts was if she married one of the professors. A shudder ran through her at the thought. And even then, she wouldn't be a student anymore. Certainly according to the law she would be busy on her back, being repeatedly pounded by some lout of a wizard intent only on spilling his seed and ruining her body and her mind. The whole law was institutionalized rape and slavery on a grand scale. Horror was permeating Hermione's conscious mind, seeping across the barrier she had set to keep the screaming from becoming visible. But Harry and Ron had turned away again and waved to her as they left to warm up for the game. She never noticed them.
Her life was over. Absolutely nothing was going to change that.
Surely having her once-prized mind dissolve into the gooey mass that pregnant women always exhibited was a waste worse than death. And even if she ever recovered her faculties (something that had been unprecedented in the myriad examples she had seen from serving as her parents' receptionist last summer) she would not be allowed to research or to work at all outside their home. The wizarding world had been hard hit financially. There simply were not enough jobs to go around. Wizarding families were suffering from the economic depression following the dark years too and the increased taxes to pay for the war efforts made things harder. She could be forced to live like Molly Weasley, only worse. The Weasleys had a family home. She envisioned a wizarding flat with diapers strung on lines across the living room like she had seen in Bill's flat and its sock laundry. Hermione's hands started to shake.
Wizarding education could only be transferred to the Muggle world with the express aid of the Headmaster, who clearly would not do so in her case. She was a seventeen-year-old orphan without any meaningful school records (good marks in history as a ten-year-old were not going to help her secure a position). Everyone assumed she had inherited her parents' estate. Ha! Her inheritance had been a heavily mortgaged house and a heavily mortgaged dental practice, both of which were sold. The few proceeds had gone toward funeral expenses. She had barely managed to afford this term at Hogwarts. When the Ministry obliviated her, she would become homeless. She would likely end up on the streets of some big city, whoring herself to live. How long would she last without mediwizardry? Muggle diseases were deadly and the streets were violent.
There was no choice. Any child she might have would grow up in the same environment. A girl would be a slave just like she was about to become, and a boy would grow up expecting to continue the cycle.
With that thought, she drew herself up from the table, her hand clenched around the parchment, but composed and serene on the outside. She pulled her own magic into a tight mass she envisioned in the center of her chest and she walked to the middle of the Great Hall. The Hall was now nearly half empty of students. It was a calm and sunny Saturday morning. Hermione gathered all the magic she could reach, opening her mind, no longer conserving her magical power. She turned her face toward the high table, where the teachers were starting to look up. They were only vaguely realizing that the Head Girl was not just stopping to speak with a Ravenclaw at the other table.
Hermione pointed her wand at her own throat. The students started looking toward her, expecting her to make a Sonorus-assisted speech. Hermione's words conveyed all the bitterness, hatred, wasted opportunities that were dominating her emotions. She flatly and quietly said, "Avada. Kedavra."
Her wand had been so close, there was no flash of green light, and as she fell to the floor in the middle of the Great Hall, everyone thought it was a joke. They all thought she was only pretending to be dead. She looked perfect, eyes open, staring at the charmed ceiling she loved so much. Then the rush of released power flooded the room and her body combusted in brightly colored flames and dissolved into ash. The Ministry's charmed scroll fluttered down and landed atop the grime, seal broken and wax bits decorating the ashes of the most promising witch the wizarding world had ever seen.
Notes: Thanks to ShagsTheDustmop for the helpful comments and beta, as well as the encouragement.
Also thanks to GreyThistle who added another layer of grammar fixes and didn't mind my arguing that the world should change so I didn't have to.
This was intended as a response to the ludicrous Marriage Law challenge. And I still feel this way six-months later. This was the only real answer.
by FlocksOfTurtles
(originally written January 26, 2004)
Revised July 20, 2004
As Hermione unfolded the Daily Prophet, the blood drained from her face. The Ministry had passed the Marriage Act. It had been hotly debated from both sides, with pure-blood wizards being disgusted by the very idea of intermixing bloodlines and Muggleborns screaming, "Slavery!" Apparently neither science nor the will of the general population had any affect on the Ministry's decision.
Harry and Ron were talking about today's upcoming quidditch match with Hufflepuff, oblivious to her concerns. A quick glance across the high table showed passing sympathy from several of the female teachers and a pinched, frozen look on Professor McGonagall's face. Professor Flitwick looked overjoyed. Professor Snape was sneering and scowled as he caught her looking at him.
Hermione returned to reading the details. Obviously it was a good idea to get the paper so she could get the news directly. Last week the Headmaster had taken her aside and cheerfully informed her that children were always a blessing and she was extremely fortunate that she could be wed so quickly and easily after the law was passed. Hermione had decided on the spot that it would be important to get impartial information, or as impartial as it was possible to receive. Surprisingly, the complete text of the new wizarding law was printed on a continuing page. She turned to read the specifics amid the hum and buzz of breakfast in the Great Hall.
Words leapt from the page and burned themselves into her mind. A witch was to marry within thirty days of receiving an offer, with her head of family choosing between multiple offers (the Ministry would serve that function for any witches without family) and setting the date. The majority of the text outlined a bound witch's remaining rights and gave specific requirements for the amount and types of sexual intercourse. A bound witch would be required to service her husband daily without contraceptives, even if she was 80 years old, or already had 20 children. It got worse. There was no sunset provision to the law; it would not be automatically rescinded when the population stabilized or after a certain number of years. This would doom any children born into a society with such a law to the same fate. Hermione didn't recognize the binding ritual, but most ceremonial magic was permanent. The binding was a life sentence. Even if the law was repealed, she could not be set free. Finally, the limits of Hermione's horror were reached: "In the event of the wizard's death, the witch will be free--" there was a line break, as a tease to hope-- "to accept new offers under the same provisions originally decreed."
As Hermione's mother and father had been killed, she realized the Ministry would be selecting a wizard to be her husband. Thoughts of possible choices ran through her mind. It was a litany of worst possible choices when she thought of who had the power to influence that kind of decision. The newly-widowed Lucius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Crabb. Goyle. Neville. Percy Weasley. Professor Snape! Or worse, it might not even be someone totally human. Professor Flitwick had been thrilled. Her mind replayed the expressions on the faces of the teachers and dread sank in.
Sucking in her breath and deciding she needed to know exactly how bad it could get, Hermione continued reading. Witches who did not comply would have their wands snapped. Hermione expected they would also have their memories modified, as that was the common practice. Asterisks led her to the note saying that the wizarding communities in continental Europe, various parts of Asia, and America were all signing extradition and compliance treaties as of the time of the announcement. Escape was a forlorn hope anyway since the wizarding world functioned on the who-you-know principle. Hiding her background would mean a lack of recommendations and would just make her unemployable.
A late owl flew into the Great Hall, dropping a scroll with a Ministry seal in front of Hermione. Warily she cracked it open. "Due to your authorized and recorded use of a time turner (Permit number #3215) you have reached your age of majority. Pursuant to the new Marriage Act and based on your lack of wizarding family, the Ministry has chosen an eligible wizard to be your fiance. You are to report to the Ministry at 11am today for the marriage ceremony in the Ministry temple. Aurors are being sent to escort you to the ceremony or to the Memory Modification department as you choose."
There was no help for it. Professor Dumbledore was in favor of the law and no one else with any power would stand between her and the Ministry. Harry might have done so, but his dreams of getting scouted during the upcoming match took precedence. He had said she should find out who the wizard was and get to know him before September when she would come of age. After all, she might like being married and getting lots of sex. When Hermione had pointed out that contraceptives were forbidden and that the Ministry had tracking charms to enforce the regular consummation of the marriages, Harry had shrugged, saying, "Well, 'Mione, it's only a baby."
Harry did not seem to notice the prejudice against married witches having careers. The bias made sense to Hermione; pregnant witches tended to make various magics unstable and they required a great deal of coddling (even more so than the Muggle women Hermione had seen at her parents' dental practice). Under the new law, it could be assumed that all married witches would require the special treatment. Then they would have children who needed care. No one wanted to hire witches who would suddenly abandon their jobs. There were exceptions, places that employed witches in certain capacities, Hogwarts, and the Ministry, but none of the witches was married. They were probably contractually obligated to remain unmarried, lest they neglect their duties. This law was going to cause a lot of vacancies at the Ministry and Hogwarts when they lost their spinsters. Hermione personally suspected most of the female Hogwarts teachers were lesbians. A sly thought crept in that the law did not make any provisions for sexual preferences. Those teachers who had been thinking only in vague sympathetic terms for their students were going to be in for a rude awakening!
She didn't want to be pregnant at 17, even if the Ministry said she was actually 18. It was still too early! In fact, Hermione was fairly sure that she would never want children. It seemed like a poor trade for all the effort she had put into her studies to abandon it all and become a housewitch. Her mind would be wasted. No wonder Professor Snape had never bothered to praise her skills! He knew she would never amount to anything, no matter what happened. She would abandon the magical world, die in the war, or be married off and become a broodmare. It had been highly unlikely that she would have remained single and thus employable in the face of the overwhelming prejudice. Now even that slim chance was impossible. It really didn't matter who the Ministry had selected for her, Hermione realized. Her life was over. There was nothing she could do to have any control over the situation once she was bound. She had poured over the law's text and not seen anything regarding restrictions on punishments of wifely "transgressions". There were a few suggestions to avoid striking gravid women, so as not to actively countermand the point of the law, but nothing designed to prevent violence. Long-term exposure to discreet bouts of the Imperius Curse would not do her any good either.
A quick glance at Seamus' watch across the table showed that the quidditch match would start in an hour, and the Aurors would be there for her in 90 minutes.
Just then, Ron leaned over and asked if she would be interested in going for butterbeer after the game. Hermione could barely hide her shock at Ron's complete thoughtlessness. He asked what she'd gotten from the Ministry. Too late! She'd forgotten to hide the scroll. He pulled it out of her hands, read it with surprise, then said, "I can't believe they kept track of the extra time. Wait, 'Mione, that's today! They cannot make you miss the game. It's a big deal with the scouts for most of the big teams here. We need you to bring us luck!"
Harry pulled the scroll out of his hands before Hermione could get it back, skimmed it until he saw the time of the meeting. "At least you can see the first half hour of the game. Your ceremony probably won't take very long, but I'll try to catch the snitch quickly so the game will be over by the time you get back to Hogwarts." He passed her parchment back, and smiled at her.
Hermione just blinked at him. He didn't understand that she probably wasn't coming back. There was no point in paying further school fees to educate livestock. In fact, the only way she would be allowed to return to Hogwarts was if she married one of the professors. A shudder ran through her at the thought. And even then, she wouldn't be a student anymore. Certainly according to the law she would be busy on her back, being repeatedly pounded by some lout of a wizard intent only on spilling his seed and ruining her body and her mind. The whole law was institutionalized rape and slavery on a grand scale. Horror was permeating Hermione's conscious mind, seeping across the barrier she had set to keep the screaming from becoming visible. But Harry and Ron had turned away again and waved to her as they left to warm up for the game. She never noticed them.
Her life was over. Absolutely nothing was going to change that.
Surely having her once-prized mind dissolve into the gooey mass that pregnant women always exhibited was a waste worse than death. And even if she ever recovered her faculties (something that had been unprecedented in the myriad examples she had seen from serving as her parents' receptionist last summer) she would not be allowed to research or to work at all outside their home. The wizarding world had been hard hit financially. There simply were not enough jobs to go around. Wizarding families were suffering from the economic depression following the dark years too and the increased taxes to pay for the war efforts made things harder. She could be forced to live like Molly Weasley, only worse. The Weasleys had a family home. She envisioned a wizarding flat with diapers strung on lines across the living room like she had seen in Bill's flat and its sock laundry. Hermione's hands started to shake.
Wizarding education could only be transferred to the Muggle world with the express aid of the Headmaster, who clearly would not do so in her case. She was a seventeen-year-old orphan without any meaningful school records (good marks in history as a ten-year-old were not going to help her secure a position). Everyone assumed she had inherited her parents' estate. Ha! Her inheritance had been a heavily mortgaged house and a heavily mortgaged dental practice, both of which were sold. The few proceeds had gone toward funeral expenses. She had barely managed to afford this term at Hogwarts. When the Ministry obliviated her, she would become homeless. She would likely end up on the streets of some big city, whoring herself to live. How long would she last without mediwizardry? Muggle diseases were deadly and the streets were violent.
There was no choice. Any child she might have would grow up in the same environment. A girl would be a slave just like she was about to become, and a boy would grow up expecting to continue the cycle.
With that thought, she drew herself up from the table, her hand clenched around the parchment, but composed and serene on the outside. She pulled her own magic into a tight mass she envisioned in the center of her chest and she walked to the middle of the Great Hall. The Hall was now nearly half empty of students. It was a calm and sunny Saturday morning. Hermione gathered all the magic she could reach, opening her mind, no longer conserving her magical power. She turned her face toward the high table, where the teachers were starting to look up. They were only vaguely realizing that the Head Girl was not just stopping to speak with a Ravenclaw at the other table.
Hermione pointed her wand at her own throat. The students started looking toward her, expecting her to make a Sonorus-assisted speech. Hermione's words conveyed all the bitterness, hatred, wasted opportunities that were dominating her emotions. She flatly and quietly said, "Avada. Kedavra."
Her wand had been so close, there was no flash of green light, and as she fell to the floor in the middle of the Great Hall, everyone thought it was a joke. They all thought she was only pretending to be dead. She looked perfect, eyes open, staring at the charmed ceiling she loved so much. Then the rush of released power flooded the room and her body combusted in brightly colored flames and dissolved into ash. The Ministry's charmed scroll fluttered down and landed atop the grime, seal broken and wax bits decorating the ashes of the most promising witch the wizarding world had ever seen.
Notes: Thanks to ShagsTheDustmop for the helpful comments and beta, as well as the encouragement.
Also thanks to GreyThistle who added another layer of grammar fixes and didn't mind my arguing that the world should change so I didn't have to.
This was intended as a response to the ludicrous Marriage Law challenge. And I still feel this way six-months later. This was the only real answer.