The Betrothal
Hermione sat on a hard wooden chair in front of Minerva McGonagall's desk. She was swinging her feet anxiously, waiting for her favorite professor's return.
"Forgive me for being late, Miss Granger. I had to go and-" she smiled thinly, "-discuss our victory with the opposing teams head of house."
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the image of Professor Snape's sullen face sagging in defeat. "I completely understand, Professor."
Professor McGonagall sat down at her desk. "Now. Out with it."
"Out with what?"
"What's haunting you, Miss Granger? Reading a law book at a very important quidditch game is out of character - even for you."
"Didn't you hear about the new decree that went into effect today, Professor?"
McGonagall's eye twitched. "Unfortunately, I did."
"Well, there are a lot of muggleborns here at Hogwarts who are already of age, Professor. Including me. And there are a lot of purebloods here, too, including Malfoy."
McGonagall raised her eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing.
"And I, well, I'm not exactly ready to get married, Professor. I want to finish school."
"Has Mr. Malfoy recently asked you to marry him, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked bluntly.
"No, but-"
"Then I fail to see what you are worried about.
"Professor, he's been making eyes at me all day. Ginny noticed it, too. And he's been whispering my name when I walk by and - well, I'm a bit nervous, you see."
"And?"
"And, well, if all he would have to do is ask his mum for four hundred galleons..."
"Miss Granger, it is unlike you to be so poorly informed. Might I suggest an extra credit project?"
"Professor?"
"A foot and a half on betrothal in this century. I'll expect it on my desk." Professor McGonagall smiled slightly at her favorite student. "I promise you, Miss Granger, you'll be all right until then. All right?"
"All right."
In potions, Ron failed miserably to identify a simple concealment concoction and spilled a small jar of eel eyes all over his desk. He lost thirty points for Gryffindor, and was called up to Professor Snape's desk after class. He was expecting the worse.
"Perhaps, Mr. Weasley, you and Mr. Malfoy were under the impression that my detentions are attendance-optional?"
"No, sir, I..."
"Well, you were wrong. I will expect the both of you at my office, seven sharp."
"Yes, sir."
"Every night this week."
"Yes, Professor Snape."
"Why the hell did you skive off detention last night?
"Was going to ask you the same thing."
"None of your business," Malfoy sneered.
"Same answer, then," Ron said casually.
"Detention is not a social club, gentlemen. Please save your chatter. Malfoy, I seem to remember you producing a usable strengthening solution, so I would appreciate a double batch. Weasley, assist him. I have business elsewhere, but I will return in an hour. You had better be finished by then."
The two worked in an uncivil union. Malfoy took the professor's words at face value, taking charge of the potion and delegating any demeaning task to Ron. Ron found himself juicing beetles and sectioning heartstring on command without giving anything much thought. He was focused on one thing - well, four hundred things really.
"-and the barkeep at the Hog's Head was a chum of my dad's in school, so I've already got a pledge from him if I agree to take out the trash. He'll give me fifty galleons at least, I'm sure." Malfoy was taking advantage of Ron's silence to gloat.
"At least," Ron muttered complacently.
"You haven't given up already, have you Weasley? Won't be much fun if you aren't even going to try."
Ron sighed.
The dungeon door burst open and Snape strode through. He peered sulkily into the cauldron and nodded crisply. "Far too orange, Mr. Malfoy, and it's practically gelled. Still, Madame Pomfrey must be served. You can go."
The two boys stood to leave.
"Not you, Weasley," he snapped. "I need you to pour the solution into vials and deliver them to the Hospital Wing."
"But..."
"Mr. Malfoy has homework to finish."
"So do..."
"Silence, Mr. Weasley."
Malfoy gave Ron a parting look of glee and a wink. Angrily, Ron began to dip vials into the steaming orange substance and to sloppily cork them.
"Careful, Mr. Weasley. Every drop is valuable."
When Ron had finished bottling the strengthening solution, he strode dejectedly towards the hospital wing. It was past midnight. He had hoped to spend the evening brainstorm some way of earning galleons, but now he was unlikely to even finish his homework.
He tapped lightly on the door to the hospital wing.
"Come in."
He wondered fleetingly if Madame Pomfrey ever slept.
"Mr. Weasley, you have a delivery for me? Ah, ten vials, that's excellent. Just the right color, too. Excellent. Just a moment, please." She dug in the pocket of her apron. "One galleon per vial, that's ten galleons. Well done. Give my regards to Professor Snape."
Ron stammered. "He didn't mention carrying payment, maybe he wants you to give it to him yourself..."
"Nonsense, Weasley. Professor Snape likes his payment immediately. It's a little out of custom to do business on school grounds, but there's no better potions master in Hogsmeade. I don't like my potions second-rate. Run along, now. I want to sleep."
Ron bristled angrily as he ran back toward the dungeons. This was turning into the longest detention of his life.
He banged on the door to Professor Snape's classrom.
"What?"
"I have your galleons from Madame Pomfrey."
"What are you talking about Mr. Weasley?"
"Your payment. For the strengthening solution."
"The headmaster does not allow us to do business in school, Mr. Weasley. I can't imagine what you are talking about."
"But she..."
The door opened just a crack, and Snape's terrible dark eyes peered out. "Whatever she gave you, Weasley, I suggest you keep it to yourself."
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron settled into a squishy armchair in front of the fire. He pulled the coins disbelievingly out of his pocket and cradled them in his hands. The firelight glinted off of their golden surfaces, reflecting his face and the room over and over again. He caught a glimpse of his own lips curved into a smile.
What he was holding in his hands was more than just ten galleons. It was his first glimmer of hope.
The betrothal of two wizards is somewhat similar to a muggle engagement. The two are not permitted by law to live together or to consumate their relationship. Their union is considered an intention to marry, and they are set apart for each other. Each is contractually obligated to abstain from romantic or physical relationship with others of the opposite sex.
Their union is not considered a marriage, although somehow a seperation of the two is considered a divorce. A witch who has been betrothed and released is often looked upon by a certain class of wizarding families as 'damaged goods'. This is extremely unfair and sexist, because a wizard in the same exact situation will be looked upon with grace.
Betrothal would be considered extremely old-fashioned in the muggle world. The pair can be of any age. In some pure-blooded wizarding families, children are still betrothed from birth. These children are not allowed to fall in love with anyone else, under any circumstance. Their marriages are marriages of convenience and gain. For example, a well-known family with powerful magical tendencies but little wealth may may marry with a family less powerful in magic but with many land holdings. These arrangements are meant to benefit both families, though it abandons the unfortunate children into cold and loveless marriages.
The worst part about a betrothal is the amount of control (over the intended witch, naturally) the contract gives the wizard, or the wizard's father if he is not of age. The wizard can and may forbid his intended to seek refuge in the muggle world, and wizarding law will take his side if she does try to run away (for further information, see Matrimonial Decree #57). He may forbid her to cut her hair, use certain glamours, or hold a job. Worst of all, he can keep her from continuing her education. Although none of these prohibitions have been used since the early seventeenth century, their presence in current law is deeply disturbing.
The latest decree set forth by our esteemed Minister of Magic has been met with surprisingly mixed reactions. Some witches with whom I myself have spoken seem to find betrothals very romantic. "I hope that someone chooses me," says L. B. of Gryffindor. Meanwhile, P. P. of Slytherin assures us that "I myself am already betrothed to a very honorable young man. Muggleborns ought to be very honored to be extended this... honor. Not that anyone would choose you, H." (Names have been ommited for professionalism, but quotes remain unaltered).
Our new Minister of Magic seems to honestly consider his new decree a good thing. He believes he is solving two problems. First, he recognizes that the intermarrying between pureblooded families is beginning to causea weakening of magic blood. Although no pureblood families are willing to admit this aloud, this idea has been circulating for at least two generations. By introducing muggleborn blood into these families, the minister believes (and I do agree with him on this) that their magic will be strengthened again. This is very against everything that the purebloods believe in, but most of them know it to be true all the same. For some of them, a betrothal will be a way for them to give new strength to their families without admitting that they were wrong. The ministers decree makes the muggleborn witches property of the family, so they aren't risking losing the control they prize so highly.
Secondly, the minister recognizes that the tension between the purebloods and the muggleborns is becoming a disruption of the peace (his words, not mine). He seems to see this as a bridge, to welcome muggleborns into wizarding high society. I, for one want nothing to do with anyone who would take advantage of something like this. I shall be writing to the minister myself.
"Well researched, Miss Granger, though seriously biased. Are you really going to write to the minister?"
"I already have, Professor. I don't think he realizes what he's doing."
"I quite agree with you."
"I did find out in my reading that they have to earn the money on their own, so I feel a bit better. I doubt Malfoy will be able to work that hard. But, Professor..."
"What is it Miss Granger?"
"Well, I was wondering if there was anyway that I could - I don't know, if there is anyone that could, er, pay my way in the meantime. Like, if there were an unmarried professor, or someone that you knew, or..."
Professor McGonagall looked up from the parchment and pursed her lips. There was an emotion in her eyes that Hermione could not place. "Miss Granger, I have a confession to make to you. When we spoke a few days ago, I wasn't taking this very seriously. Unfortunately, circumstances have forced me - and some of your other professors - to become more involved. There is more at work here than you know. The headmaster has forbidden us to speak with the students directly, because the more light that is shone on this decreee, the more possibility of damage it could make. Suffice it to say that your situation is the least of our concerns. I don't mean to be harsh, Miss Granger, but there are worse things than having Malfoy keep you from sitting the exams this year. And you know as well as I do that that would be a terrible thing indeed."
"I don't understand."
"I'm not allowed to speak of it to you. But think deeper for a moment."
Hermione shook her head.
"Miss Granger. Think. There are muggle-born witches out there who don't even know that they are witches yet."
A soft oh of surprise escaped from Hermione's lips.
Professor McGonagall nodded. "Don't repeat this to anyone, Miss Granger, but your Headmaster is currently affianced to an adorable 6-year-old named Sarah Smith. And Professor Snape..." she shook her head and smiled slightly. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but you're going to have to weather this. Hopefully we'll be able to get this law changed before anything serious happens. I will be watching both you and Malfoy very carefully."
"Thank you, professor."
Author's notes: Wheee! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far.
Lily -Michelle - Of course I agree with you that it would be beastly for poor Hermione to have to marry Draco. The question is, can Ron really get the galleons before Draco does?
gillian - stupid but sweet, so true. That's why we love him. That's why we love all men, really.
Georgia - Thanks much, I didn't know that anyone liked my other Draco story. That will teach me to try and give him a little sympathy. I'd be happy to show you the original story, but to be honest I don't feel comfortable here. I can't really vouch for the ratings of the other stories. if you want to shoot me and e-mail I could send you the stories that way. If you don't feel comfortable with that, let me know in another review and I will find another way to get them to you.
Spikerules - Thank you, I will try!
Emmylou - Thanks, I'm so flattered! I'm actually following that Dudley story of yours. Now -that- was an original idea!
Lissa - Thanks! Don't worry, Ron will save the day eventually. He can't help it; it's in his personality.
S. C. Hardy - Yeah, it makes my stomach churn as well, which makes it a bit hard to write it in a plausible way. But it makes for an interesting plot, anyway...
Me221 - Thanks! I've never tried to chase a plot bunny before. I like it so far.
Sue - Thanks, that was my favorite part. It just seemed so Arthur.
Honey Bee - Yay, thanks!!
ednyadove - Oh, I seriously doubt that Draco really fancies Hermione, don't you? Although I suppose it could happen. So far it seems like he just wants to make her life a bit more difficult.Or maybe it's deeper than that... ah, well, Ron to save the day...