A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! Unfortunately, due to life and my inability to create on demand, this story will be slow in its production. Rest assured, however, that it is planned out and that I am determined to finish it
Disclaimer: If I owned HP, snamione would be cannon.
Monday morning saw Hermione rising early and entering an empty common room. The welcoming feast the night before had been the most uneventful one the trio had ever had the opportunity to attend. Nevertheless, or perhaps as consequence, Gryffindor house had partied well into the night, resulting in heavy eyes and heavier heads.
Hermione, having left the party as early as seemed acceptable for the head girl, was one of the only students seated in the great hall when breakfast appeared. There was a scattering of Ravenclaws, three fourth year Hufflepuffs, a second year Slytherin and head boy, Draco Malfoy. All the staff, bar Trelawney, were seated at the head table. Hermione smiled as she took in the sight of Tonks, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, sitting between professors Sprout and Flitwick.
Her eyes slid along the row of faces to the pale Potions Professor, sitting in his usual chair with a mug of tea and his trademark scowl. After the war Hermione had developed a grudging respect and, dare I add, admiration for the dour Professor. However, she still was not overly fond of the man, though she didn't dare inform Harry and Ron of the fact. She could imagine their comments, exclaiming how she'd finally seen the 'bat', or how the 'greasy git' had finally released her from a spell.
"Hey Hermione!" Hermione was startled out of her reverie as Ginny plopped down in the seat opposite her.
"Knut for your thoughts?"
As the Brunette opened her mouth to speak, she was cut off by the two boy potato sacks flopping down beside her. Harry groaned as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses while Ron, still half asleep, reached for the bacon and the toast simultaneously. Hermione smiled fondly as she reached across to move Ron's hand away from the pumpkin juice, into which it had been about to plunge.
Breakfast continued in such a manner until, soon enough, Professor McGonagall was walking down the aisle, handing out time tables.
Hermione smiled as she received hers and watched with a smirk as her friends visibly braced themselves. She laughed as they complained at having potions twice a week, Monday morning and Thursday afternoon, and shook her head as they excitedly shared their free lines. She didn't have nearly as much free time as the boys, as she was obviously taking as many classes as possible, while they were taking the minimum requirement.
Hermione glanced at the head table once more, noted that Professor Snape had already left the great hall, checked her watch, picked up her book bag and as good as dragged Harry, Ron and Ginny to Potions.
A heavy door slammed against a rough, brick wall. Robes flicked and snapped as an intimidating figure swathed in black swooped into the dungeon room. The figure spun on his heel, folded his arms. The deep, glittering black eyes swept the room. Lips set in a thin line parted to allow a voice of dark, rich velvet out.
"Today you shall be brewing the draught of the living dead. Instructions are on the board. Begin."
Students clothed in black with ties of green, red, blue or yellow scurried to gather ingredients and begin their feared professor's task.
Hermione leaned over quickly to stop Neville from making a dire mistake with his potion.
"Are you deaf, Miss Granger?" She jumped, startled, before turning to face the domineering figure of her potions professor.
"N-no sir." She stammered.
"Well then, are you dumb?"
"No sir."
"Then why," Professor Snape hissed as he leaned closer, "do you persist in doing Mr Longbottom's work for him when I have clearly instructed you not to?"
"But sir, Neville was about to…"
"Silence, you silly girl! Twenty points from Gryffindor for disobeying instructions. Another ten for speaking back to a professor." With that, Snape turned with a snap of robes and stalked down the aisle.
Hermione fumed; her face red and her fists clenched. That insufferable man! If he really wanted Neville to incinerate the classroom, on his head be it!
"Hey, 'Mione!" Hermione turned and looked past Neville to a whispering Ron.
"That greasy git is so unfair! We won't hold it against you, will we Neville?"
"Shush Ron!" Hissed Hermione, cutting off an obliging Neville's reply. "You don't want us to loose…"
"Ten more points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Miss Granger. Surely a know-it-all like you should have memorized the school rules by now. I'm disappointed in you."
Hermione raised her eyes to meet Snape's glare as her friend's glared daggers at the snickering Slytherins. Her eyes were steely as they held his gaze until, finally, she turned her attention back to her potion.
Professor Snape was surprised, though he neither showed nor admitted it. By now the girl should have been nearing a break down, spewing excuses and empty reasoning's and losing her house even more points. Perhaps the war had changed a few of the dunderheads after all.
Pity.
The days and, subsequently, weeks, continued in such a manner. Hermione excelled in all her classes while Harry and Ron scraped by. Harry and Ginny continued to dance around each other, while Hermione observed Ron steal more than a few glances at Susan Bones. All of Hermione's professors, bar one, doted on her; delighting in her work and happily giving her extra study.
The trio had also noticed Professor Dumbledore looking progressively more worried, casting distressed glances at the older students. Unfortunately for them, they were about to find out why.
The fifth week of term, a Thursday morning, saw Hermione absently eating breakfast while studying her charms text book, which was propped up against the pitcher of pumpkin juice. Ron sat to her left with his usual mountain of food, while Harry and Ginny sat opposite, quietly discussing the Gryffindor quidditch team.
All four looked up as the morning owls swooped into the great hall. Ron and Ginny both received letters from Molly, Harry received an official looking parchment and Hermione gave an owl a knut as she collected her copy of the Daily Prophet. Setting aside her charms book, she lifted her pumpkin juice to take a sip while she unfolded the paper.
Heads snapped towards her as the glass promptly slipped from her fingers and smashed on the floor.
"Those Bastards!" She hissed vehemently.
Similar gasps of shock and cries of outrage echoed around the room as the students looked at their copies of the Daily Prophet.
"Ministry of Magic Pass Marriage Law!
Due to the alleged drop in the population following the second Great War against he-who-must-not-be-named, the ministry of magic have seen fit to introduce the 'marriage law'.
Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, states that: "We can no longer rely on time alone to continue our world. Too many lives have been lost to risk it. The ministry have, therefore, seen fit to pass the marriage law for the good of the wizarding world; to insure the next generation of witches and wizards."
All eligible witches of age seventeen (17) to fifty (50) and all eligible wizards of age seventeen (17) to seventy (70) will enter into matrimony under this law. For more on this story turn to page 3."
Hermione gasped in outrage, her eyes sparkling and her hair frizzing with energy. Turning to her friends, who had managed to find a paper in order the read the article, she started and failed to speak. Harry looked up and, with a sorrowful look, passed her the letter he had received. It was from the minister of magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Dear Harry,
I am hoping that this letter reaches you before the Daily Prophet does. If not, you will already know what I'm about to tell you.
Unfortunately, the ministry has passed a marriage law. Be assured that we investigated every option available; however, due to the growing consequences of pure-blood inbreeding and the losses of war, this law is necessary.
This is a serious matter, Harry, and as a hero of war, I cannot allow you a loophole. I am sorry to inform you that, as a role model to the wizarding population, as a beacon of hope and comfort, you and your friends, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, need to abide by this law.
I can, however, allow you your choice of bride. Unfortunately, your friends must complete the marriage forms being issued to the public, as they, too, must set an example, and as the ministry cannot be seen to have double standards.
Reply as soon as possible with a choice of bride, Harry, and I will see to it that you are given this small grace.
Kind Regards,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister of Magic.
Furious, Hermione picked up her bag and the paper and stormed from the great hall.
Hermione all but ran to the Headmaster's office. Barely stopping to hiss the password through clenched teeth, she took the steps two at a time and arrived, panting, at the Headmaster's door.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked. Opening the door at the call of 'enter', she walked in to see a weary Professor Dumbledore and an irate Professor Snape paused mid-pace.
The head girl straightened her spine and strode purposefully through the numerous whistling and smoking machines.
"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape."
Dumbledore smiled at the girl while Snape turned to the window.
"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?" The wizened old wizard asked.
"Headmaster, have you seen this?" She waved the Daily prophet in the air. "The ministry are planning to marry us all off! They're treating us like breeding stock! It's Barbaric!"
"Miss Granger…"
"They're expecting us, students, who are barely adults, to marry! We've just fought in a war, for Merlin's sake. We aren't even out of school!"
Miss Granger…"
"They're not even letting us CHOSE who we marry. We have to fill out forms! Be matched up by a bunch of mad, grey haired control freaks! Oh, of course they let their dear boy hero choose a wife, but they dare not give anyone else that option!"
"Please, Miss Granger, if you'll only…"
"I can't marry! I need to finish my N.E. ! Attend University! Start a career! I can't be tied to someone who expects his wife to stay at home a watch his ten children! They're expecting us to…"
"MISS GRANGER!"
Hermione's voice faltered as she turned, stunned, to an irate Professor Snape, who had managed what all of Dumbledore's calm pleadings had not.
"It seems that your inept brain has once again failed to work for yourself and form concise conclusions. Of course Professor Dumbledore knew of the law, you silly girl. If you hadn't been so tied up in your petty, selfish worries, you'd have realised the students of Hogwarts are not the only victims of this law."
"Sir?" Hermione chocked.
"Your professors, Miss Granger."
Hermione's mind reeled and she mentally admonished herself for being so caught up in her own problems. Of course! This law could have serious implication for the whole of the wizarding community; teachers could have to leave the school; Professor Sprout, Madam Hooch, Professor…
"Oh."
"Indeed, Miss Granger. Your greasy git of the dungeons will have to marry."
Hermione looked at him with confusion.
"I…pardon? No, I… It's just that… Professor Trelawney will have to marry."
Professor Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow as the headmaster stifled a chuckle.
"Is the law really necessary, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione's eyes pleaded denial as the met saddened blue ones.
"I'm afraid so, my dear. I wish that it were not the case but, for once, the ministry is correct in its calculations and its actions."
"Then I'm… Then we're all to marry?"
"Yes."
Professor Snape turned to the troubled girl.
"Don't look so forlorn, girl. I'm sure there's someone out there mad enough, unfortunate enough, to make a match for you."
Hermione's eyes widened and her shackles rose at the stinging comment. She turned to her smirking Professor with an infuriated expression.
"Well, I pity whichever poor woman has your hand thrust upon them, sir."
With that, Hermione turned tail and stormed from the room, barely missing the Headmaster's chuckle or the Potions Professor's hiss of irritation and resentment.