A/N- Welcome to my new story, Love Appointed. I decided to try my hand at a marriage law fic since I always find them so interesting. To those that are awaiting one-shots for the Far Less Lost Series, I will get around to writing them eventually, but this new fic is dying to be written first!
Chapter 1: The Law
March 8, 2003
"There is no easy way to disclose the information I have for you," Minister Shacklebolt said apprehensively from behind the desk in his office, "but the Wizengamot is in the process of passing a marriage law to-"
"What is a marriage law?" Hermione queried, a quill and parchment poised in her hands. Harry and Ron had always made fun of her for taking notes, but something in the Minister's tone when he sent his Patronus the previous night made her believe the news he had for them was going to be life-changing. Minister Shacklebolt held up his hand to halt her question.
"If you'll allow me a chance to explain everything, I will answer all of your remaining questions when I'm through, Ms. Granger," the older wizard insisted.
"Yes, Sir."
"In the five years since Voldemort was defeated, there has been a severe decline in the magical population. Further, we've seen quite a few small uprisings in the name of blood purity from pockets of his followers. Though the latter isn't the driving force behind enacting a marriage law, it is a factor. Also, it's worth noting that none of our reports indicate any of the younger pureblood generations have participated in these uprisings. It seems to be the older witches and wizards holding on to the traditions and beliefs in which they were raised," the Minister explained. "In addition to much of the younger generation holding off on procreation and the purebloods still arranging marriages within members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, there has been a decline in magical births and a rise in stillbirths, infertility, and Squibs. Unfortunately, if this trend continues for much longer, the witch and wizard population will continue to dwindle to an all-time low, which will have a negative impact on future generations. If we don't do something, we will eventually die out," he finished, seeming to age years as he justified the reasoning behind the controversial law.
"Might I see the numbers behind your estimations?" Hermione wondered. She knew what the Minister told her made sense, but a marriage law seemed far-fetched. It was likely that people would protest it as soon as it passed.
"Of course," he replied, handing her a stack of parchments with all of the data. "Review it with a fine-toothed comb, Ms. Granger. I expect to hear your opinion on it in the next few days."
"With all due respect, Kingsley, why have you gathered the three of us? What do we have to do with the passing of this law?" Harry asked skeptically. He looked smart as he sat there in his crisp, black Auror's robes, taking in all of the information as if he were being briefed on a new case. The Minister pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Apparently, what he had to say next is what he considered to be the hard part of this conversation, which worried Hermione.
"Believe it or not, we don't want to force this on anyone, but if we have the Golden Trio's support on this, we are hoping that more people will volunteer for the program."
"Can you please explain this program to us," Ron asked with wide eyes as if he wished he were anywhere else. Since he began working at the joke shop with George a few years ago, his tolerance for serious conversations had severely diminished. Among many other reasons, it was why he and Hermione didn't work as a couple, though he refused to give up on them. Whether his persistence was due to him truly wanting her or his mother's nagging, she wasn't sure.
"As I said, we hope to give all the people in which the law applies a bit of a choice. The program will require all unwed witches and wizards between the ages of 20 and 35 to marry by the end of the year," Minister Shacklebolt clarified, holding up his hand again when all three gasped. "All eligible people will be allowed to choose their spouse or allow the Ministry to assign them a match through a specific series of tests to ensure the best chance of compatibility," he explained, silencing Hermione with an impatient glance when she attempted to ask another question. "There will be a six-month period to allow time for compatibility testing and for everyone to make their choice. The match results will be mailed out on October 1st. Each couple will have to produce at least two offspring in the next five years. Should the couple not become pregnant within the first two years of marriage, they will be allowed to find another suitable partner among the pool of available witches and wizards without success," he finished with an exasperated sigh. "Your questions, Ms. Granger," the Minister swept his hand toward her expectantly. It was hard to decipher which question to start with since she had so many.
"How can you be sure your tests accurately measure compatibility? What are they based on?"
"You'll love the science behind them, Hermione," he answered smugly. "We'll assign couples based on both Muggle genetics and magical signatures that will work together to strengthen one another's weaknesses. Of course, we've taken into account attraction and personalities such as they do on Muggle dating websites. No one will be matched unless they have a minimum score of 85 percent compatibility," he explained proudly.
"Aren't you afraid that most people will choose whoever they want as they have been instead of whoever the Ministry assigns to them?" Hermione wondered.
"That's the thing. It will be hard to turn down. If I offer you the chance to practically find your soulmate, wouldn't you prefer to find that person instead of settling for a friend or a mate you aren't really sure about? It's almost too difficult to pass up the opportunity." Kingsley sat back in his chair confidently. Damn him for appealing to her logical side!
"Couldn't a couple fake unsuccessful pregnancy attempts?" Hermione countered, confident she had the upper hand until the Minister's face hardened.
"Though we are confident that our matches will eventually fall in love with time, there will be...inspections to make sure it is impossible to fabricate such things," he said grimly. The room was silent for a few beats while the young wizards and witch digested this new information.
"Unfortunately, as necessary as this new law may be, there is no real way to hide the ugly reality whether people find love or not. It would be an easier potion for wizarding Britain to swallow if the three of you could throw your support behind it," the Minister continued with a bit of desperation seeping into his tone. "Once Ms. Granger reads through all of the data, you'll see we are truly giving our best effort to match people with someone with whom they'll have the best chance to have a successful marriage," he assured the trio.
"What if two purebloods had the highest match percentage? Would the Ministry prevent such a marriage even if the two were truly suited for one another?" Hermione asked. She would hate for a couple to not have a chance at love because of perceived prejudices.
"I assure you, if two purebloods make a successful match, they will be put together," he replied kindly.
"What about Ginny, Sir? I love her and refuse to leave her to be some poster boy for the Ministry again," Harry spat out, tears pooling in his eyes as he swiped away at them angrily. Kingsley's face softened at the sight of the poor young wizard who'd spent his whole life putting everyone else before himself.
"We've thought about that, Harry. That is why you and Ginny would represent the choice the Ministry is giving everyone. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't married her already," the Minister smiled. Everybody thought they'd be married by now, but Ginny kept putting off their big day for one reason or another. At first, it had been about Harry taking a break before they went the extra step, then she thought he should be focused on establishing himself as an Auror, and the excuse for the last two years had been about planning a wedding around her Quidditch career. In Hermione's opinion, their relationship was not only what the wizarding world wanted; they expected Ginny and Harry to live happily ever after. It was a lot of pressure for the young couple. She loved them both dearly, but it seemed their romance had fizzled out into an easy friendship.
"Hermione and I will marry as well," Ron announced out of nowhere. They hadn't been together in over a year, and even then it was a drunken mistake turned into another shot at making things work. If there was any chance of true love, Hermione wanted it. One thing she knew for sure is that she would not find love with Ronald fucking Weasley!
"No!" she screeched. "I want to take the compatibility test. I want the Ministry to match me," the curly-haired witch clarified, looking directly into the Minister's eyes, his lips slightly upturned. She ignored the bright blue eyes that were boring into the side of her face.
Suddenly, the ginger wizard stood up and stormed out of Shacklebolt's office.
"I can't believe you'd rather marry some..some stranger than me!" Ron shouted at Hermione as soon as she returned to the Burrow. "We've known each other since we were eleven years old!" he seethed with his arms folded across his chest and his hands in tight fists. Molly was working in the kitchen, unsuccessfully pretending not to listen. The weight of her disappointment was heavier than her son's. Hermione could never be what Mrs. Weasley wanted for Ron because it seemed he essentially needed another mother to guide him through life. The curly-haired witch needed a partner, her equal, a man who inspired her so that they'd both somehow be better together than apart. She was looking for someone with whom she could have intellectual conversations, a passionate wizard who took life seriously and didn't treat her like his sister. She needed a man who could find the balance between a lover and a friend.
"I've known Harry since we were eleven too, but you don't see me trying to marry him either...I want to marry for...for love. If I can't have that with this new law, I'd at least like a shot at it," she said regretfully. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with him. Leave it to Ron to think he was being noble when all she really wanted was to find the one. The poor witch was tired of feeling guilty about not being in love with him as everyone expected of her.
"You know, dear-" Molly began, but Hermione silenced her with a look.
"I hope you all will understand that I won't be guilted into this. It's bad enough that we're being forced to marry after all we've been through, but I don't need the one choice I have in this whole business taken from me too," Hermione wept, wishing she hadn't been reduced to tears so easily. Always the protective one, Harry stood behind her in support, placing a hand on her shoulder and ready to defend her if she needed him. They'd spent many nights discussing why she shouldn't keep falling into the trap of getting back together with Ron. Sometimes she was just lonely and it was an easy choice, but she always regretted it in the end. They weren't meant to be more than friends.
"I'm sorry, dear!" Molly rushed over to embrace Hermione as if she were her own daughter. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel...trapped," she whispered the last word.
"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me, Ronald?" Hermione demanded. "You hate when I scold you all the time and the way it makes you feel when I...well to be honest, when I achieve success. We always fought about those things. Don't you want to meet someone who's better suited for you?"
"Not this way!" Ron shouted, the first tears pooling in his bright blue eyes. He let them fall, cascading down his face slowly. "I'll not have my love life reduced to a series of tests!" he exploded before running outside and slamming the door in his wake. The house shook with the strength of his frustration. The old Hermione would have gone after him. She would have given in to him and let him talk her into a life she didn't want. Not this time. There was something greater out there for her, and she intended to find it.
Later that evening, as Hermione reviewed the Ministry's data in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place, she couldn't see a way around this law. Though she was a civil lawyer for the rights of magical creatures, it wasn't difficult to decode the legal jargon used in the new law. On one hand, it was barbaric to expect people to marry and reproduce immediately, yet on the other hand, the outlook for future generations was dismal. She'd thought of providing some sort of monetary prize for people that volunteered for the program, however, the chances of finding a true match would be severely diminished if only people looking for a prize participated in the program. Hermione absolutely hated this, but she could also see that it was necessary for the time being. By her calculations, the magical world could stand to overturn the law in the next five to seven years if all went according to plan.
March 30, 2003
Though he'd read The Prophet article three times, Draco still had trouble comprehending what he was reading. It wasn't as if he were some foolish sod; it just seemed unrealistic that the Ministry could or would enact a marriage law. How was it possible for the government to wield so much power?
Of course, his destiny had always been set for an arranged marriage, so it wasn't as if this was that far removed from his original life's course. He'd never admit it aloud, but he wished it were possible for him to marry someone he actually enjoyed rather than a witch with the so-called "right bloodlines". To his dismay, his mother had spent the last three years parading him around every available pureblood witch in Europe. He was almost nostalgic for the two-year probationary period after the war when she was more concerned with his well-being than his marital status. Many of the women were nice enough but didn't really challenge him. He didn't care about interior design or planning parties nor did he want to discuss such inane topics with his future wife. For Merlin's sake, there were people you could hire for such tasks. Why were these sought-after skills in a wife among purebloods?
This wasn't the first time he had questioned pureblood traditions. After being forced into taking the Dark Mark, it became immediately clear to Draco how silly it was to consider blood purity important. The two most powerful wizards he'd ever heard of, Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. were both half-bloods for Merlin's sake. Loathe as he was to admit to Hermione Granger's superiority to him, she was the only person to ever outwit him in school and a Muggle-born witch at that. It was rather embarrassing that it took him all those years to realize that tracing one's ancestors back a millennium had little to do with actual magical ability. While his parents still clung to the notion, he no longer cared for any of it. He hadn't cared since he was sixteen years old, or at the very least, began to care less about it then. It took a while to rid himself completely of those old beliefs.
"Darling, throw that dreadful paper away immediately. I won't even have you consider such a mockery of marriage," Mother admonished as soon as she entered the dining room for breakfast. "To think they'll let all of the pureblood lines phase out for no reason at all. It's despicable if you ask me," she complained as her personal House-elf, Dot, prepared her morning meal. The young wizard took a deep breath. He had to convince her that this was their only choice. An opportunity to restore the Malfoy name or something she would buy. Things would go smoother with his mother's support. The blond wizard glanced at the notes he'd written while reading the double-page spread about the new law.
"You must understand, Mother, if they don't do something about this now, my future heirs will die out in the next generation, or worse, it is likely I won't even be able to produce an heir with another pureblood," he explained, hoping she'd take the bait. Her silence was a good sign. At the very least, the older witch was thinking about it. He pressed his luck. "I don't know which is more of a tragedy, a child without a future or the Malfoy and Black lines ending with me."
"Don't even say such a thing!" Mother glared at him. Draco continued to eat as he felt the weight of her eyes analyzing him. Narcissa Malfoy was an extremely calculating individual. The rising statistics of miscarriages and infertility within pureblood circles were a huge risk. He was sure his mother would be worried about what his father thought of their options.
Until the moment he felt her attempting to use Legilimency on him, Draco had sat calmly awaiting her response, but her intrusion was too far. Slamming his fists on the table, he sneered at his mother, and she withered with his anger. Narcissa had crossed a line.
"You'd do well to remember that I don't require your permission, Mother!" he exploded, rising from his seat and shoving his breakfast away. "Out of courtesy, I consulted you, but I see you have no respect for my choices. You never have," he stormed out of the room. "My decision has been made!" the wizard called as he Disapparated away from his family home.
Every choice in Draco's life had somehow been robbed from him. For once, he'd like to make his own way or have the opportunity to learn from his own mistakes. What did he care about bloodlines if it only led to a boring, insufferable life? He wanted to...feel...love, worthy, happy...everything he'd missed out on all these years. It took this ridiculous marriage law to finally give him the bollocks to take control of his life back from his parents.
"Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my brooding best mate?" Theo teased when he answered the door of Nott Manor. The two wizards had been best friends since they were in nappies. No matter what happened, they could always rely on one another, especially during the difficult times in their lives. The night Draco was branded with the Dark Mark, he'd spent the rest of the evening drinking himself into a stupor and crying himself to sleep on Nott's bedroom floor. When the abusive Nott Sr. was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, the blond wizard had been there to celebrate Theo's freedom from his abusive father. That night, the young Nott heir had danced through his familial home starkers, smashing all sorts of priceless, Dark artifacts as he went.
"Have you read The Prophet yet, mate?" Draco beamed, flashing the paper in Theo's face as he pushed past the dark-haired wizard and helped himself to the liquor cabinet.
"Of course, I've seen The Prophet! Why are you so chuffed about this new law? You've always had to marry someone chosen for you."
"Can't you see? It's finally a choice I get to make. There's finally an end to this endless parade of pureblood witches where my only choice is which color gray I should have," Draco replied as he served himself a heavy pour of firewhisky. "For the first time, someone acknowledges that maybe I don't like gray at all. They'll consider every part of me and every part of her, whoever she may be, and realize that Draco Malfoy wants a little fucking color in his life," he grinned as he swallowed a glassful of Ogden's Finest. Theo openly gaped at his best friend.
"Blaise, is that you?" the dark-haired Slytherin tilted his head to the side. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"What? Zabini couldn't pull off playing me with Polyjuice and acting lessons," the blond wizard smirked.
"Oh, there you are, Malfoy!" Theo let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "For a moment, you became some smiling git who waxes poetic over marriage or love or some shite," he laughed, reaching for the drink Draco had poured for him.
"What are you going to do, Nott?"
"Hopefully, they'll match me with the muddiest witch they can find, so I can trot out my half-blood children in front of my father's portrait just to piss him off every now and then," Theo chuckled, falling into a wingback chair at the thought of angering his late, cruel father.
"If you keep referring to this mystery woman as 'muddy', she'll likely murder you before she can bear any of your ugly babies," Draco rolled his eyes. It had been years since they used derogatory words like that to describe Muggle-borns. Living with a madman and watching people tortured in the same place you learned to play Exploding Snap as a child has a way of eliminating unnecessary prejudices. No matter what, the Malfoy and Nott heirs vowed to never become like their fathers.
"You know I don't believe that rubbish; I was just thinking of how my father would react if he knew about this. Fuck, what is Lucius going to say?"
"Don't bring me down now, I still have hope for the moment," Draco offered a sad smile. Somehow, his father had escaped the Dementor's kiss but would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban with visitation rights. Luckily, Draco had already inherited his fortune, otherwise, he'd be forced into marrying a pureblood if Lucius had any say.
The elder Malfoy's living arrangements in prison were probably nicer than most of his guards' personal dwellings. It was a bit scary what the man was capable of even though he was in a fortress on an island in the middle of the North Sea. One thing was for sure; he would not take this news well.
"Leave it to the dregs at the Ministry to completely ruin my plans of chatting up and shagging every witch I see until one decides she loves me. I suppose this way is a lot less work," Theo shrugged wistfully, pulling the blond wizard from the suffocating thoughts of his father. "You're right about one thing, Draco. We finally have a reason to hope."
A/N- As always, I appreciate your constructive comments and feedback. Please let me know what you think as the story evolves.
As of now, I have written about five chapters of this story and plan to update it at least once a week if I can stay ahead. I truly hope to keep to that posting schedule, but we'll see how it goes as time marches on.