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Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 1808

Hogwarts Assignment 2: Sex Ed: Task 1: Write about someone preparing for something.


Not For You


"It's ridiculous!" Hermione burst out. There were tears in her eyes, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying.

Harry reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"It's such a stupid law," she muttered. "Why should we be forced to marry people we don't want to, just because we're not pure blooded or raised in the Wizarding world?"

"I suppose because…" Harry shook his head. "I don't know. It was one of the first laws that High Minister Voldemort put into place when he took over though, so he must have a reason, daft as it may seem to us."

"Blood shouldn't matter," she whispered. "I don't want to get married to a stranger, Harry."

He tugged her into a hug, knowing that nothing he could say would make her feel better about the approaching deadline. They were almost finished with their seventh year at Hogwarts, and unless Hermione chose to give up her magic, or move abroad immediately after graduation, she'd be in the same group as Harry, for the purebloods to take their pick.

Harry understood why some people chose to leave the Wizarding World, or move abroad, but he couldn't. He had no blood family—certainly none that he ever wanted to see again—to go back to, and while he had an inheritance to fall back on from his parents, he hated the idea of moving to a strange country.

He'd made friends at Hogwarts, built himself a family of his own, and he couldn't imagine leaving them behind. Even if that meant that he had to be married to someone he didn't choose for himself.

Of course, had his parents raised him, he wouldn't even be in the position he was in. Only because he'd been raised in the Muggle world was he being put in the line up, despite his ancestry.

"I'm scared, Harry," she admitted in a whisper, pressing her face against his jumper. "What if I get chosen by someone awful?"

"Maybe one of the Weasley's will be able to pick you," he offered.

The Weasleys, while pureblooded, were quite low on the totem pole in regards to making a choice, but there was still a chance that Hermione would still be there for her to be claimed by them. Ron was their best friend, after all. Surely one of them would claim her if offered the opportunity.

She swallowed hard and nodded, and when she sat up, there was a slight gleam of hope in her eyes.

"Do you really think they might pick me?"

"I think there's a chance," Harry replied softly. "Only you can decide if it's worth the risk."

They were lined up, their robes checked critically, their hair straightened by picky professors who walked up and down the line, making sure everything was perfectly in place.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of Harry and sighed at his hair, as uncontrollable as ever. "Did you try the charms?"

Harry nodded, his lips titling up slightly. "Sorry, Professor. I think my hair is magic proof."

Her lips twitched, but she had too much self control to actually smile. There was a sadness in her eyes that Harry felt was familiar to her; he imagined she looked much the same during every one of these ceremonies.

She moved along the line, but it wasn't long before a loud bell chimed to announce the beginning. Harry watched as the purebloods walked into the hall. A few of them seemed uninterested in the ceremony, not even bothering to look in the direction of the seventh years.

Others were looking down the line hungrily. Harry barely stopped himself from wrinkling his nose as the oldest man in the group leered at him lecherously. There was something unbearably sleazy about the man, and Harry shivered at the thought of being stuck with him for the rest of his life.

There were some faces he recognised—Bill, Charlie and Percy Weasley were all amongst the last in, and he recognised Lucius Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange from the papers—and a lot that he didn't.

He bit his lip and looked at a spot on the wall when the High Minister entered the room. He was tall and handsome, with brown wavy hair and brown eyes that seemed to glint red when looked at in a certain light. He certainly looked like a successful man, and yet, none of that scared Harry.

What he found terrifying about the man was the sheer amount of power that he seemed to emanate, even when he wasn't casting magic.

The High Minister slowly walked down the line of students, stopping occasionally for a better look at someone before he continued on his way.

Harry preyed he didn't pause in front of him, but he found himself unsurprised when the man did. Harry never had such luck as to be invisible when he wanted to be.

"Such vibrant eyes," the Minister murmured. "Almost the exact shade of green as the killing curse. How… intriguing."

Harry blinked, and felt his cheeks heat up, a sure sign that he was glowing red with embarrassment.

"What's your name?"

"Harry Potter, sir," Harry replied quietly, though in the silent hall, his voice seemed magnified.

"Potter is a wizarding name, is it not?"

"Yes, sir. I'm a half-blood."

"Then why are you in this line up, Mr Potter?"

"I was raised in the Muggle world," Harry said. "And I have no wish to return there, or move abroad."

The High Minister nodded thoughtfully before he gave Harry a piercing look and moved on down the line. Harry noticed that he didn't pause in front of anyone else after that.

"Quite a fine selection of Wizards and Witches," he said, when he'd reached the end, where Professor McGonagall was waiting. "You must be proud of them."

She nodded carefully. "I'm always proud of my students, but you're correct. This year group has been a particular joy to teach."

"I suppose we should begin," the High Minister said, taking the seat that had been placed just for him, where he'd have a perfect view of everyone in the hall. "Rabastan, if you'd like to start us off."

Rabastan Lestrange was an interesting man, Harry thought. He was strong, high up in the Ministry and extremely well respected by the masses. He wasn't particularly handsome, but he had a certain charisma about him all the same.

Harry watched as the man conjured a bunch of flowers and handed them to Lavender Brown—a half-blood like Harry, who'd been raised by Muggles as he had—holding out his hand for her to join him.

She accepted the flowers with a smile, and allowed him to lead her up the aisle to stand before the High Minister.

There was a pause, and then an approving nod, and a marriage was accepted. Just like that.

Harry had expected there to be something… more.

Lucius Malfoy was called forward next, and he walked along the line three times before he stopped in front of Harry. "My Lord is quite correct about your eyes, Mr Potter."

Lucius' own eyes were grey and calculating, and Harry remained as still as a statue while he waited for the axe to fall.

The pause seemed to go on for hours, but was probably less than a minute, before Lucius conjured flowers and offered them to Harry, who took them with a shaking hand. He was led down the aisle, unable to believe that Lucius Malfoy had chosen him, to where the High Minister sat.

Another pause, this longer than the one when Rabastan had made his choice, and then High Minister Voldemort shook his head.

"I do not believe this one is for you, Lucius, my friend."

Harry glanced at the blonde man to see his already pale skin pale further, and he quickly dropped Harry's hand and swept from the hall.

Harry dithered on his spot, unsure if he was supposed to return to his place in the line, or wait for the Minister to speak again.

Those piercing brown eyes met his once more, and then he nodded his head to the floor by his feet, and conjured a pillow with his hand, not even bothering to draw his wand.

Harry cautiously sat down on the pillow, stroking the soft, lilac velvet fabric with nervous fingers. He had no idea what was happening now, or would happen next, and he'd never hated the unknown more.

He watched the proceedings from the cushion, smiling widely when Hermione was chosen by Bill Weasley and led up the aisle.

The High Minister nodded immediately, though Hermione's attention wasn't on him; rather it was on Harry. He could see the worry in her eyes, and he tried to smile reassuringly at her.

He didn't think he'd done a very believable job, since the worry on her face only seemed to increase, but she allowed Bill to lead her away anyway, looking back over her shoulder a few times, chewing on her bottom lip.

Whatever happened next, Harry would have to ensure he owled her at the first opportunity.

When the last of the students had been chosen, and the purebloods had left, either with their new spouses or alone, the High Minister finally looked down at him.

"Do you know why you're sitting here, Harry?"

"No, Sir."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. This is unprecedented, after all," the Minister mused. Then he smiled, and it transformed his face. "You intrigue me, Mr Potter. What I chose to do is keep you for myself."

Harry blinked. "I… thank you, Sir?"

He wasn't sure what the right answer was, but he supposed gratitude never went amiss. It was better than stuttering like an idiot, at any rate.

The Minister let out a soft chuckle and stood from his seat, then held his hand out to Harry, who took it. Harry was pulled from the cushion with gentle pressure, and led from the halls, and then Hogwarts.

There was a carriage waiting out on the grounds, close to the door, and Tom gestured for Harry to precede him. Harry climbed in, and took a seat in the far corner, unsure of himself and nervous.

While he'd known he'd be leaving the castle that day with a husband or wife, the thought of that person being the High Minister had never even crossed Harry's mind.

The door shut with a soft click, and Harry realised that while he'd been musing over his disbelief, the Minister had climbed into the carriage behind him and was sitting right beside him, despite the copious room on the other side of the otherwise empty carriage.

"I'll make you happy, Mr Potter. You'll never want for a thing."

"Thank you, Sir."

The Minister stared at him for a long moment. "You… you may call me Tom."


Written For:

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Showtime: 14. Green

Bex's Bits and Pieces: 17. Chet Sebastian: Sleazy

National Bird Day: 11. Giving someone flowers

Appreciate a Dragon Day: 17. Spyro: Lilac

NeonFae's Nibbles: Biscoff Cookies: "I'm scared." (2) / Marriage Law (5)

365: 311. Critical

Insane House: 909. Marriage Law