Chapter One: The Train

The morning of the spring equinox dawned almost reluctantly, rays of sunlight parting the clouds as slowly as was possible. Select inhabitants of Hogwarts were not so lucky in their wake-up procedures. Their house heads woke them all promptly at four in the morning so they could catch the Hogwarts Express back to London for The Lottery.

The Lottery was an annual gathering of all witches and wizards in the Ministry's jurisdiction who had come of age since the last equinox. At noon, the Ministry assigned each female a male companion who would be her "breeding buddy," as the Ministry fondly referred to it, for the entirety of her life. Since heterosexuality wasn't a common occurrence, it was the only way to promote traditional procreation amongst the masses.

Many women protested, saying that if they wanted to have a child all they needed to do was magically impregnate themselves and skip the unsavory act of fornicating with a man. The Ministry saw things a little differently, passing a bill banning procreation through magical insemination. Their view on the matter was that it was both the role of a man and woman to create life, to leave things to chance instead of letting a mother dictate the features of her child.

No one forced the couples to copulate; it was entirely at the females' discretion. Many would forego the experience entirely and see a muggle doctor about invetro fertilization. There were more than a few, however, that used it as an excuse to fulfill their lifelong desire to see what it was like on the other side of the fence. The rest simply treated it like any other medical procedure and afterwards went home to their husbands and wives and led perfectly normal lives.

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, along with many of their fellow classmates, were on the train that morning. Both Ginny and Harry had yet to come of age, so now they were plodding along the road back to Hogwarts to get ready for their morning classes.

&

"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked Ron, sitting straight backed in the seat beside him. He was slumped as far into the corner as he could muster in order to prevent accidental touchage between their two bodies. His cock was already on edge being so close to her, his nose lovingly taking in the scent of lavender wafting from the piles of hair that adorned her head. If they were to touch, he was sure that it would be an instantaneous orgasm all over the inside of his pants, and that's the last thing he needed on such a big day.

Of course he was nervous. There wasn't a time that he was having sex with Harry that he didn't imagine it was a woman that he was fucking. It wasn't necessarily Hermione every time, but her face masked Harry's more often than not.

Oh, fuck, he thought, feeling his penis begin to harden, pressing tightly against the fabric of his pants.

"I just hope she isn't ugly," he desperately laughed, covering himself up with his jacket. Do not think about sex. SEX. Shut the fuck up, brain. I do not want to hear it. SE… SHUT THE FUCK UP!

"I wouldn't worry about that. The Ministry hand selects every pairing. They say it's completely random, but everyone knows they assign each girl a male that will compliment her so they have pretty babies, or not if the case be." Goddess, Hermione stop talking so much; you're going to bore him to death. "And you are pretty cute. So I mean the chances of her being "ugly" aren't very high." Real smooth, Hermione; because that wasn't at all awkward. I'm such a freak.

Ron almost choked on the air he was breathing. He knew she was just trying to sound all smart and bookish, but did she really have to use that word. It was as if the word was made of red dye; Ron could just feel the color rapidly seeping through his face. The only plus was that all the blood was now rushing away from his nether regions, for the time being.

"You're such a know-it-all, Hermione," Ron teased, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "I swear they are going to name a book series after you; The Encyclopedia Hermonica, not to be confused with the Encyclopedia of Harmonics." Open mouth and forcefully insert foot.

See, he's making fun of you now. Why can't you learn to keep your mouth shut? Moreover, you shouldn't even feel depressed over what he thinks about you. You are a lesbian, perfectly content with your girlfriend. You have sex and enjoy it. Who cares if it's only when you are thinking about Ron? Repeat after me, I am not straight. I am a raging lesbian, happy to be with Ginny.

"At least I read, Ronald Bilius Weasley. If it wasn't for my know-it-all-ness you and your silly little boyfriend would have already failed out of Hogwarts."

"Mind who you're badmouthing, stupid breeder," Ron snapped.

"What did you call me?" Hermione hysterically, her words weighted as if she was shouting continuously at Ron. Terror and hurt lurked in the background.

"You heard me, fucking pervert. Why else would you hate Harry, unless you were lusting after me? Well, I have news for you, freak, I love Harry and even if we were the last two people on earth I would never indulge you and your sick fantasies." Except that, you are in love with her and maybe, just maybe, she might like you back. Stop being a fucktard and wake and smell the pheromones.

Ron's words sliced Hermione's feelings into ribbons, leaving space for a breath of cruelty to fill her body. It was cold and calculating the way her eyes now fixed on him, an icy sheen rising to their surface. Skin turning white, frost crawled up her face as clouds of carbon dioxide ejaculated from her mouth.

"Ronald, have you ever stopped to think that you might be the fucking pervert? Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Do you want me?" She pressed her chest out, sensually sliding her hands over her abdomen, the particles of ice on her skin shimmering in the light like diamonds.

All the blood rushed back to Ron's cock and he no longer felt any anger boiling in his veins, just the pulsing torture in his pants. His eyes fixated on the inch of silky skin of her back as she continued to mockingly rub herself and quietly moan.

"I've had enough of this shit," Ron huffed, standing up while pulling his coat down over his crotch to hide his arousal. "I'm gonna go sit with someone else. You have a wonderful day. I hope you get assigned a guy that can satisfy your twisted urge." The compartment door slammed shut behind him.

Free from his oppressing anger, Hermione let herself warm up again, rosy blush lighting up her skin. However, when she watched his retreating back a twinge of regret wrenched at her gut, a strong sense of wanting to chase after him and hold him tight to her chest flooded her system. You know what you said was true. He is totally infatuated with you.

"Hello, Granger," greeted McGonagall, poking her head in. "We should be getting there in a few minutes. I just wanted to remind you that this… well, just know that you are not forced to do anything you don't want to."

"Didn't you fight it, Professor?" Her recent fight with Ron had piqued Hermione's interest in change.

"Yes, I did. The Ministry strongly urged Dumbledore to not hire me, but he found my behavior rather admirable."

"Why don't we like straight people?"

McGonagall sighed, "I don't know. It's stupid, but that's the way of civilization, someone is always going to be at the bottom."

"What if I wanted to level things?"

"Then I wish you all the luck in the world. It will be a difficult road, but I think you have the mien to make real change." McGonagall placed her hand fondly on Hermione's shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "I have an idea, when we get back to the castle I will contact some of my old friends and set up dates for you to meet them. These women made me who I am and you will need to utilize their strengths in order to succeed."

"You are an amazing woman, Professor."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Now, if you will excuse me I must warn your peers of their fast approaching fate."

&

Walking down the aisle, McGonagall thought about her days as a rebellious youth. It had been on this day about thirty years ago when her and her contemporaries marched on the Ministry, tape crisscrossed over their crotches waving sighs that said things to the effect of, "Choice" and "Down with the Ministry."

Back then, Minerva was full of hope for the future and a love for equality. The years had quashed the fight out of her, but the hope remained. It was now invested in the young woman sitting alone in a compartment, scribbling away on some parchment every idea that poured from her brain, down her arm, and out of the quill.

Ron was holed up in a bathroom, voraciously necking McClaggen, a Gryffindor seventh year. He was reinstating his homosexuality in the only way he knew.

"Fuck me," the older boy whispered, lifting his shirt off.

"You asked for it," Ron sneered, anger now aflame in his eyes. He was only mildly conscious of what he was doing at this point, all that was certain was it made him hot, and that was all he needed.

The train pulled into the station as Ron came, aggressively fucking McClaggen until he began to cry. There was nothing subtle and sexy about the situation, just overwhelming anger, and control.

"Take that, Hermione," Ron grunted viciously as McClaggen sobbed louder.