Chap 5: The Initiative

8 years after the Battle of Hogwarts

Harry Potter straightened his tie and ran his fingers through his messy hair, trying to smooth it out. He pulled at his robes before placing his hand on the ornate doorknob. He paused, drawing in a shallow, shaky breath. He opened the door and entered the Wizengamot chambers.

Minister Shacklebolt, standing front and center among the fifty or so judicial members in their plum-colored robes, turned, immediately greeting Harry with a warm smile and a firm shake, "Good to see you, Potter."

"You, too, sir," Harry replied, desperately trying to temper his nerves. His gaze flitted around the room, recognizing a few faces. Everyone stared back, a mixture of awe and contempt lining their faces. Even after 8 years, he was still The Boy Who Lived Then Died Then Lived Again… A fact that made him cringe.

"Please, have a seat, Potter," Shacklebolt gestured to the empty chair at the center of the room… a chair often used for those being put on trial.

Cautiously, Harry took his seat while Shacklebolt moved to claim his chair as Chief Warlock among the proceedings.

Shacklebolt gave him another warm smile before saying, "Thank you for joining us, Harry. I don't suppose you know why we asked you to meet here today…"

Harry swallowed, looking down at his feet for a brief moment, carefully collecting his thoughts. "If-if you're here to convince me to return to the Aurors, I'm afraid my answer is still a resounding no."

Shacklebolt chuckled causing Harry's head to snap up and stare at his former mentor. "Relax, Potter. I am hearing nothing but good things from Headmistress McGonagall about you. How is Defense Against the Dark Arts these days?"

Harry straightened in his chair, "It's going very well, sir. I am rather enjoying my new position. And I'm home for dinner every night, which pleases the wife."

Shacklebolt glanced at the other Ministry officials for a brief moment before turning to Harry with a smile, "And how is Ginevra?"

Harry looked around, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, "Ginny… Ginny is good. She's taking leave from the Holyhead Harpies indefinitely…" Harry smiled then, "We are expecting another baby…"

It didn't go unnoticed to Harry how several members shifted in their seats at the mention of a baby, Shacklebolt included. Some members could be heard murmuring amongst themselves.

Harry swallowed, "Sir, I'm sure I wasn't summoned here for small talk, so perhaps we can just get to the point."

"Right you are, Harry." Shacklebolt cleared his throat, "Actually, we here at the Ministry asked you here today with marriage on our minds…"

Harry stared at the Minister for the space of several heartbeats before furrowing his brow, "I'm flattered, Shacklebolt, but as I've mentioned I'm kinda already taken…"

Shacklebolt cocked an eyebrow, "Funny…" He withdrew a file folder and handed it to a waiting Auror. The young man, eyeing Harry, casually slipped it into Potter's waiting hands.

Harry sighed, his fingers drifting over the cold folder before resigning himself to opening it. He quickly scanned over the first page, then the second, but then closed it. He shoved it back at the Auror. "You cannot be serious…" was all he could think to say. Purebloods marrying Half-Bloods and Muggleborns… inconceivable.

Shacklebolt leveled his piercing gaze at Harry, "On the contrary, we are very serious."

"It's already a done deal," another Ministry official chimed in.

Harry shot him a dirty look and the smarmy man shrunk back in his seat.

"You cannot force this on the Wizarding population. It's archaic," Harry stated firmly.

"We are not forcing anyone, Potter. It will strictly be on a volunteer basis only," Shacklebolt replied.

To this, Harry gave a snort of disbelief, "No Pureblood will ever volunteer…"

"We already have 15 Pureblood volunteers… some from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, in fact," Amelia Bones interceded. "There's even a Weasley…"

Harry sat back in his chair and let that information ruminate for a brief moment. Perhaps Ron was finally ready to move on with his life… He quickly shook the thought away. It could easily be Percy or Charlie… No, definitely Percy. He looked up at the audience before him, "Why are you telling me this? As I've already mentioned, I'm married…"

"To a Pureblood…" the young Auror beside him mumbled.

Harry gave this man a cold smile, "Yes… and?"

"What Daniels is saying," Shacklebolt interjected, "is you and Ginny are a perfect example of what we hope to accomplish with this Initiative. Since the war ended…" He paused, swallowing, "Well I don't have to tell you how we lost many lives in that battle… three times as many witches and wizards perished than in the First Wizarding War. While there was a bit of a baby boom right after, it has died off substantially…" Again he paused, "And there has been an alarmingly high rate of infertility among the Purebloods…"

"And, much to their chagrin, the children that are being born are nothing more than Squibs…" an older lady Harry did not recognize interrupted.

"Don't use that word," Harry chided.

Shacklebolt threw the woman a cold stare before turning his attention back to Harry, "Potter, you have to understand, we are only trying to save our way of life. It's true, more and more children are being born without magic. Attendance is down at Hogwarts, as I'm sure you've seen first hand… If we don't act now, soon there may not be any magic left in this world."

Harry sighed, pressing his palms against his eyes, trying in vain to stave off the headache forming. "And you think the answer is forcing Purebloods to marry Half-Bloods and Muggleborns..." It wasn't a question.

"Not force… strictly volunteers only."

"Potter, you and your wife already have a beautiful son and another child on the way. I've heard people say how powerful James is and at such a young age…" chimed in Penelope Clearwater.

Potter couldn't help but smile, thinking about James. Molly Weasley bragging on her grandson was not what Harry would consider as people, but it was true, nonetheless. James had already shown an amazing aptitude for magic, even though he was only 3. Harry's smile suddenly faded, "I still don't understand why you are bringing this to my attention. Ginny and I have been together for years, you can't expect people to believe we were somehow part of this Initiative…"

"No, nothing like that, Potter…" Shacklebolt swallowed then looked Harry in the eyes, "While we have more than enough willing Purebloods, our issue seems to be getting Half-Bloods and Muggleborns to accept the concept of an arranged marriage…"

Harry cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of him, "Can you blame them?" There was more murmuring among the council and uncomfortable shuffling in their seats.

The older lady sniffed disdainfully, "Purebloods have the richest and most defined magical lineage to speak of. Half-Bloods and Muggleborns should be counting themselves lucky we have even deigned to include them in our community."

"Esmelda!" Shacklebolt snapped.

"Lucky, you say?" Harry looked the woman directly in the eye, "Some of the finest witches and wizards I know are Half-Bloods and Muggleborns, myself included. And last I checked, we overthrew Voldemort. Purebloods either joined him or hid themselves away until the threat was over. So, perhaps you should count yourself lucky we allow you to be a part of our community."

"The nerve you have, Mr. Potter," she bit out.

"Esmelda, that will be enough," Shacklebolt shouted. She immediately closed her mouth. He turned to look at Harry, "You will have to forgive some of the older members of this group, Harry. You can't change how some people were raised, no matter how antiquated their views may be." He shot the old woman a look of anger.

Harry shook his head, "It's quite alright, Minister. I've dealt with this sort of bigotry all my life. As have the others like me…" He sighed, "…Which is why they will never agree to marry a Pureblood."

Shacklebolt's jaw tightened, "They might… if…" He paused for a moment, "…if we had a volunteer of some influence… a spokesperson, so to speak…"

"Someone of influence…" Potter repeated, a question in his eyes. Then it hit him. He shook his head, "Absolutely not."

"Ms. Granger is the perfect person for this… bright, young…"

"Single…" Esmelda finished. "Though I hear she's quite a looker so that does surprise me…"

Harry flew out of his chair, "Now see here…"

Shacklebolt reacted instantly, rising and giving the older woman a look of condemnation, "Esmelda, I think maybe you should leave…"

Esmelda calmly stood, smirking as she straightened her robes, smoothing the wrinkles from it, "Very well, this conversation was rather boring to me, anyway." She gave Harry one last look before exiting the room.

Harry pulled down on his robes before retaking his seat. "Who is that?"

"She's harmless…" Shacklebolt replied.

"She had no right to speak of Hermione in that way."

"And how is Ms. Granger these days? I hear she's also teaching at Hogwarts… Transfiguration, I believe," Shacklebolt asked.

"She's well." Harry paused before adding, "She'll never agree to this, Shacklebolt. You know that."

"We've sent her letters," Katie Bell replied, "But she never responds."

Harry smiled in spite of himself, "She more than likely doesn't even open them. She prefers anonymity these days."

"Harry," Shacklebolt sighed, "Ms. Granger is the best of us… surely…"

"No, " he shook his head, "She, more than most, has never had a good history with the Purebloods. Not to mention the fact that the whole idea of an arranged marriage goes against all her fundamental rights as a woman…and… and.. No, she won't do it."

"She might…if you convince her," Katie answered.

Harry hung his head. His stomach twisted at the thought of one of his best friends subjecting themselves to this, and yet there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that needed him to remember something… a small, overlooked detail… "Let me see the list of the Pureblood volunteers," he replied.

More murmuring. "Harry, it wouldn't be very fair to our volunteers if we shared that information…" Katie tried.

"The list or I walk," Harry stated.

Katie looked at Shacklebolt. He gave her a curt nod. She proceeded to shuffle some pages before handing a piece of paper over to the Auror, who turned and it gave it to Harry.

Harry scanned the list of names, chewing haphazardly on his bottom lip as he processed the information. He handed the paper back to the Auror. "I suppose I could talk to her…"

Relief flooded the Council members.

"That is all we are asking," Shacklebolt replied.

Harry sighed, "Alright, explain it to me."

"Harry James Potter, how could you even think I would ever agree to such a… a… an archaic practice such as an arranged marriage?!" Hermione huffed.

She turned away from her oldest and dearest friend, scribbling questions across the chalkboard as she prepared for her next class. She was so angry the chalk scraped and scratched over the blackboard, causing both her and Harry to cringe.

"Look, 'Mione, I told them you would never agree to such a thing but they insisted I ask you anyway."

Hermione slammed the chalk down and whipped away from Harry. She went to her desk and practically ripped the drawer open, grabbing a scroll, ink pot and quill.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Sending a very strongly worded letter to the Minister of Magic to express my absolute hatred for this Marriage Initiative and to say I will not be volunteering like some prized mare for their auction."

She yanked out her chair, seating herself before picking up her quill. Harry's hand covered hers, staying her movements. She sat there, staring at his hand.

He kneeled beside her, "It wasn't like that, 'Mione. If Ginny and I weren't already…"

"...happily making magical babies…" she interrupted.

He sighed, "Yes, exactly. If I was single, they would be asking me to volunteer as well as you and…"

"Don't say his name," she replied.

Harry sighed again, "Alright...consider it unspoken."

Hermione turned to look at Harry, "Would you do it? If they asked you… could you sit there and commit yourself to a loveless marriage to a Pureblood? They hate us, Harry. They hate me…"

"They don't hate you…Who could hate the Great Hermione Granger…" he replied, pushing a stray curl behind her ear.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Just answer the question."

"I… I don't know… maybe…" he stammered

Hermione huffed, "Liar."

"Look, it's not about a bunch of men sitting around, pairing off witches and wizards. There's compatibility tests, fertility checks, assessments of your magical cores… they are using every means necessary to ensure they find your best match. They want these marriages to last…"

"Merlin, you're actually supporting this insanity!" She abruptly stood, marching across her classroom to get away from him.

"I'm not supporting it necessarily… but there were some valid points…"

"Harry!" she exclaimed.

"Hermione, the truth is the magic community is dying out. Attendance at Hogwarts is at an all time low…"

"Oh spare me! The Ministry is trying to exert control over our bodies, plain and simple."

Harry groaned. "Can we not talk about our bodies…?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You do know how babies are made, correct?"

Harry gave her a look. She simply shrugged.

"So I should tell Shacklebolt you said no?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

He sighed, "No." He made his way to the door before he stopped and turned to look at her, "This isn't about…"

"Don't say his name," she warned.

"Ron…" he finished.

Hermione cringed. "That was over a long time ago…" Hell, it never really even started, she thought to herself.

"Not for him…" Harry replied.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, well, that's his issue to deal with." She turned away from Harry's scrutinizing gaze and went to the far window that looked out over the Quidditch pitch.

"'Mione…" Harry started then paused. "I… I only suggested it… I mean, after everything you went through after the War…" Again that pause, still she did not look at him. "Maybe it would do you some good to have someone…" She slowly turned to face him. "You know,'" he continued, "…to look after you…"

"Your concern has been noted, Potter," she whispered, her vision cast down, studying her sensible heels.

"See you at lunch?" Harry tried.

Hermione shrugged, "It's either lunch with you or listen to Longbottom talk about Herbology for an hour…" She gave him a tight smile.

"Well, at least I still rank above Longbottom."

She leaned back against the window, "Just barely…"

Harry chuckled but his eyes remained sad as he gazed at her. She hated that look of pity.

"Go, I have class," she shooed him out.

"Alright...alright…" Harry replied, finally exiting the classroom.

Hermione released a shaky breath and turned back to stare out the window. Just as she did, a blur of green sliced through the air, coming to hover just outside her window. The young Captain with his shaggy black hair and piercing blue eyes saluted her, mouthing, "Morning, Ms. Granger" before quickly flying off to rejoin his teammates. The Slytherin team was starting their practice.

She swallowed as memories threatened to assail her. She quickly turned back to her empty classroom, afraid of the tears that were forming. She took a deep, cleansing breath and steadied her heart. This was not the time to fall apart.

But her eyes betrayed her, instantly settling on the carved initials at the table closest to her…

DLM

She turned away from them and walked to the front of the class.

Hermione climbed the steps up to her flat, located in lower Hogsmeade. She opted to live separately from Hogwarts, much as Harry did (though he had a family waiting for him and she only had Crookshanks). Still, it made her feel like she had some semblance of a life other than the school. And Neville was all too happy to be Head of Gryffindor House.

She entered the small apartment, kicking off her heels and draping her robes over the nearby chair. Crookshanks was sitting by the picture window in her quaint kitchen, gazing out at the night sky while barely acknowledging her existence. She flopped down on the well-worn couch (one of the few pieces of furniture she took from her childhood home), putting her feet up on the coffee table. Her vision landed on the picture of her parents on the mantle of her fireplace and her heart lurched.

Eight years…

Eight years of spells, counter-spells, memory charms and potions… but there was no reversing what she had done. She didn't just erase a memory… she had erased a whole person…

She erased herself and now they were perfect strangers. Her heart seized in her chest at the thought.

Hermione choked on the memory trying to form, a strangled sob emerging. She laid back on the couch, bringing a pillow to her chest, clutching it tight. She took a deep breath, followed by another...then another… but it was no use. The tears came anyway. She wept into the pillow until she was hiccuping and out of breath.

She sat up then. She closed her eyes and counted to ten very slowly. She had given the sadness its due. She released a shaky breath then rose and proceeded to go about her nightly routine. She put the kettle on while she showered. Enjoyed a nice cup of tea while watching her favorite late night comedies on the tele. (She may be a witch, but there was something to be said for sometimes doing things the old Muggle way. It made her feel closer to her parents, to say the least.) She brushed her teeth and braided her hair, taking a moment to simple stare at the woman reflected back at her in the mirror. Almost twenty-six… still young… but the bags under her eyes seemed to betray her.

"Maybe it would do you some good to have someone…" Harry's voice echoed in her head.

She released a heavy sigh, switching off the light in the bathroom. She crawled into her bed, pulling the covers securely around her. Silence enveloped her. Her throat tightened and she swallowed.

"Maybe it would do you some good to have someone…you know, to look after you…"

She stared up at the darkened ceiling, carefully listening to the barrage of sounds around her. She practically flew out of the bed when her door creaked open. But it was only Crookshanks. Sensing her building anxiety, he sauntered across her bed and flopped down next to her. He allowed her to rub his belly. Hermione laid back down and clutched at her covers rather tightly. Before she knew what she was doing, she started to mentally catalog all the Pureblood men she could remember. Most made her skin crawl but there were a few potential ones that she might be willing to…

She abruptly sat up. What the hell was she even considering?

She flipped on her lamp and left the bed, pacing the length of the room, wringing her hands. She closed her eyes and her brain immediately betrayed her, clouding her mind with an image of grey eyes and silver blonde hair. She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away.

He would never...would he?

She gave a hysterical laugh. No, he would never volunteer. That wasn't even a possibility.

She started to tremble and she wrapped her arms around herself, seeking warmth and comfort. She bit her lip, chewing on it distractedly.

Suddenly she found herself rummaging through her bedroom closet, pulling out a battered old shoebox from deep in the back corner where last she shoved it, much like her memories of him.

Her fingers ghosted over the lid as she whispered a simple incantation. She swallowed then slowly opened it.

Pictures moved inside the box, clippings from The Daily Prophet looking back at her, silently judging her. She stared at his sullen face, his features sharp and perfectly sculpted just as she remembered. But it was his eyes that drew her attention… now so devoid of emotion.

Quite unexpected for an engagement announcement, she mused.

Her eyes scanned the headline from just two weeks ago, still holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe there was something she missed….

Draco Malfoy to marry Astoria Greengrass

Nope, there it was printed in black and white.

One lone tear slipped unwarranted down her cheek and she quickly dashed it away.

She slammed the lid down on the box before pushing herself to her feet. She hurried to the kitchen and opened her rubbish bin, throwing the box inside.

Time to let old things die

Everyone was moving on with their lives… At least once a month she was receiving birth announcements, wedding invitations and the like, while she allowed herself to wallow in the past.

She went and sat back down on the couch and stared at the fireplace. She chewed on the tip of her thumb as she let herself think, her overactive mind her greatest strength and yet also her greatest weakness.

What could it hurt to take the compatibility test… see her match, she pondered.

She could always back out if it was someone she didn't like...right?

She slapped her palms against her thighs and pushed to her feet. She went to her small desk and grabbed a piece of parchment and quill. She jotted down one sentence and signed her name. Quickly she sealed it, grabbed her coat and raced out of her flat, headed for the post office to get an owl before she lost her nerve.

10 minutes later she returned to her flat. She closed the door and slumped back against it. She shook her head, ripping off her coat. Calmly, she walked into her kitchen, opened the rubbish bin and pulled out the shoebox. She placed it on her small coffee table and simply stared at it as she sat back down on the couch.

What in the hell had she just done

Harry Potter was just leaving the Great Hall when Hermione joined his side.

"I wrote the Minister of Magic," she replied.

Harry deflated, "Hermione, you didn't…."

She set her chin, "I did." She paused, "I told him I would do it."

Harry stumbled in his steps, freezing in place. "W-what?"

Hermione turned and met his gaze, "I told him I would do it. Don't make a big deal, Harry."

She brushed a curl out of her face, turned and calmly walked away.

3 months later

Hermione sat at her kitchen table, the small brown envelope with the official Ministry of Magic seal clutched in her hands. She swallowed nervously.

"Well, open it," Ginny urged.

Hermione looked up at her then slid her gaze over to Harry, who looked almost as nervous as she felt. She laid the envelope down on the table. "I can't." She stood up and started to pace, her thumb absently going to her mouth for her to nervously chew.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, I'll open it!" Ginny tried to reach across the table for the envelope but her growing stomach only seemed to get in her way. "This blasted baby!" She tried to rise and reach for the letter but Harry stopped her with a hand on her wrist and a quick shake of his head. He returned to bouncing James on his knee.

"I really think this is something Hermione should do, Ginny," he replied calmly.

"No it isn't!" Hermione concluded, still pacing, her arms now encircling her as she hugged herself tightly. "I mean, what was I thinking? This is all your fault, Harry James Potter!"

"My fault?!" He exclaimed. "When last we spoke, you admonished me for even daring to bring it up!"

"Yeah, well, you put the thought into my head, so it's still your fault!"

Ginny patted Harry on the knee, "She's right, my love, you know what happens when you make her think…"

Harry sighed, running his hand down his face. "Fine, then, I'll open it." He carefully set James down, who immediately ran off to chase Crookshanks around the living room. He reached for the envelope, bringing it closer, flipping it over and over in his hands.

"You can't do it either, can you?" Ginny questioned.

"Nope." He set it back down, letting his forehead fall against the tabletop with a groan.

Ginny snatched it up, "Then allow me." She positioned her finger under the seal.

"Wait!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ginny froze.

She retook her seat then got back up and resumed pacing once again. "I've been staring at that letter for a week, what's one more day?"

"A week?!" both Harry and Ginny replied in unison.

Hermione stopped pacing. "I… just couldn't… I couldn't open it. What if it's someone truly horrid?"

Harry stood and took Hermione into his arms, hugging her close, "Then you tell the Ministry no and this becomes just another part of your past."

"Simple as that?" she murmured.

"Simple as that, 'Mione."

"You aren't obligated to see this through," Ginny tried, turning slightly to give Hermione's arm a soothing caress.

Hermione took a deep breath, releasing it with a shudder, steeling her nerves, "All right, Ginny, open it."

The young redhead smiled with glee, enthusiastically breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment. Her eyes quickly scanned over the document. "First and foremost, we here at the Ministry of Magic would like to thank you for your service… nonsense… nonsense… nonsense… Ah, here we go…" Her voice trailed off.

Both Harry and Hermione took a step closer, waiting with bated breath.

Harry cleared his throat, "Well?"

"What. The. Bloody. Fuck." Ginny stammered each syllable.

"Ginny!" Harry admonished his wife, "James is right here."

Ginny turned sharply in her chair to face them. "You can yell at me for being a shite parent on your own time, Potter!" She waved the parchment in his face until he grabbed it from her.

Hermione cringed, hanging her head in her hands, "Oh lord, it's terrible, isn't it? I knew this was a mistake…"

Harry's eyes quickly read over the letter then slid his hand through his hair. "'Mione… I… I don't know what to say…" He gulped.

"Suddenly my cursing seems like a moot point now, huh Potter?" Ginny replied in a condescending tone.

Hermione reached for the letter, "Let me see it."

Harry glanced at it one more time, "Hermione, maybe you should rethink this…"

"The letter, Harry!" She demanded and he quickly relinquished it.

She closed her eyes and steadied her breath. Slowly she opened them and looked over the letter. Her hand immediately came to her mouth, "Oh my God…" she murmured.

There, in the fine penmanship of the Minister's secretary's writing, in black and white, with a 98.79% match…

Draco Malfoy.