A/N: And now for a rundown of the marriage pairings:
Draco/Hermione
Ron/Luna
Harry/Ginny
George/Katie
Fred/Cho (do people even ship this like actually)
Ginny's POV
I am in my living room, sharing an armchair with Hermione. My armrest is being occupied by Harry. There are twenty-four bloody people in this room. The house is more crowded now than it was when Bill and Fleur were getting married. Speaking of Bill and Fleur, they've come to visit. They're sitting on a love seat with Gabrielle between them. As much as I've come to like Gabby, I can't stand to look at her right now. She makes me think of the two children I'll be forced to bear for the Ministry. Suddenly I feel a wave of nausea.
I hear muffled discussion coming from the next room; it's Mum and Dad. I close my eyes and listen to the soft side conversations around the room. Hermione is talking to Percy and his girlfriend Audrey (Percy moved to Wales after the Battle, so they're not affected by the laws.) Charlie and his girlfriend Isabelle, a cheery brunette with bright blue eyes and a Romanian accent, are getting to know Xenophilius and Luna. Cho and her stern, strict looking mother are having an animated conversation with Bill and Fleur. Stoic and aristocratic, Draco and Lucius remain perfectly silent and disgustingly pompous and superior. I want to strangle them both.
There are strange looks going around. Every time Hermione and Fred's eyes meet, they look concerned or embarrassed and they look away quickly. George looks sick from anxiety. Angelina was paired with Blaise Zabini, the duplicitous Slytherin scum.
"Sorry about the delays," Mum says as she reenters the packed room, levitating trays of food, though I doubt anyone really feels like eating.
"No trouble at all, Mrs. Weasley," Audrey pipes up for the rest of us, when no one is sure who should speak.
Mum smiles graciously. She's forgiven Percy, as have the twins, Bill, Charlie, Hermione, Harry, and Dad. Ron and I are holding back, unsure. For now, we remain cordial.
"Let's make this quick," a cold voice pipes up from a removed corner of the room. "I have better things to do than waste my time in this blood traitor hovel."
"Excuse me, Lucius," Hermione starts, her voice sharp and harsh. "But as I recall, my friends and I are responsible for your son's survival through the Final Battle. If you're enjoying Draco's continuous existence, then perhaps you ought to shut up before I decide to put an end to it."
Most of the room is choking back sniggers, attempting not to foment further instigation. Charlie, Isabelle, Bill and Fleur clap for a few seconds before halting abruptly. As if on cue, Audrey, who's also Muggleborn, and I give loud "Amen, sister!"s. Hermione smiles gratefully and averts her eyes, blushing slightly, obviously pleased with herself.
"We will not be spoken to in such a way by mudblood filth like you!" Lucius shouts back furiously. "If you are to be in a union with my son you will treat us both with respect—"
"It isn't as though I chose to marry him!" Hermione retorts, rising to her feet. "And I demand respect as well! You are a guest in this house, and you're lucky we had the decency to let you in after all you've put us through!"
Dad jumps to his feet and cuts off Lucius's response before it can be said. For a long, tense moment, they stare at each other until finally, Lucius reluctantly sits again. Hermione and Draco are engaged in the most spiteful, vengeful staring contest of pure and utter rage I've ever seen. I fear one of them might spontaneously combust.
"Right, well, I thought it would be a good idea to gather the pairs and their guardians so we can all make sure we're on the same page here. We still have two days to sign the marriage contracts that we've all been owled and send them back to the Ministry for filing and whatnot.
"So, I want to make sure we're all clear on ceremonies, should we chose to have them, and the rules of the marriages, as well as where each couple plans to move for the duration of their union. We'll start with…why don't we start with the twins. George?"
"We figured we would just stay in the flat above the shop. It'll be fine to accommodate Fred and Cho as well," George tells him. Katie nods, and her dad, her magical parent, seems to be fine with it.
"So that's both of you, then?" Dad asks the twins. They nod in response. "Cho, you're okay with that? At least for the time being?"
"Right." Cho's mum confirms as well.
"Moving on. Ginny and Harry?"
"Well, I do technically have a house. Number 12," Harry says.
"You know how big it is, Dad. We could definitely have Ron and Luna and Hermione and Draco—" I start.
"Absolutely not!" Lucius interjects indignantly. "No son of mine will take up residence in some filthy mudblood hideout! However, I am kind enough to give the mudblood and Draco the Manor. Narcissa and I were planning on moving out to Bellatrix's old place anyway."
"On no terms will I be returning to the Manor," Hermione replies with cold dignity. "I refuse."
"I'm afraid we aren't giving you any option," Lucius smirks. I feel horribly sick to my stomach. "It states very clearly in the Ministry's rules that the couples must live together—"
"Great, Draco can take up space in Number 12, then," Hermione interrupts.
"He most certainly will not," Lucius reiterates. "We can bring this matter to the Ministry, but they're far more likely to place you in the Manor, seeing as Number 12 already has two couples inhabiting it. You will reside at the Manor, or you can talk to the Ministry about terminating a contract, which would involve you either relinquishing your right to perform magic in England, or relocating outside the Ministry's jurisdiction."
Hermione's stare turns icy again, but she refuses to let the defeat creep into her voice. "I will not flee my nation because of your disgusting, two-faced, lying, cheating slimeball offspring. I will never be a true Malfoy, because I am not a coward," she hisses angrily. The room falls completely silent, and I am frozen in shock. The Battle has turned her from quietly courageous Hermione to bold, undeterred Hermione.
"Right, well…ceremonies?" Dad prompts.
After a moment of chillingly awkward silence, the general consensus seems to be no ceremonies. Just sign the papers and be done with it. A mandatory business deal. I can't help the shiver of terror that runs down my spine as I watch Hermione sign her marriage contract with a trembling hand, her whole body quaking with repressed fury. We agree to be moved into our respective houses in two days' time.
Hermione is white as snow and shaking when the Malfoys finally depart, not a moment too soon. The numbers dwindle down. Katie and her dad leave, then Cho and her mum, Luna and Xenophilius, Percy and Audrey. Charlie and Isabelle head out to the lake outside. Bill and Fleur and Gabrielle go back to Shell Cottage. And suddenly it's just me and Hermione and the twins left in a cold and quiet room. For some reason, I don't question it when Fred takes Hermione into his arms, holding her there until, after some indeterminable amount of time, she stops crying and her eyes are dark and bloodshot, rimmed with tears, but I don't know how to help anymore. I want her to go back to being the strong, undefeatable Hermione she was before. But she's so broken and I don't know how to fix her.
Hermione's POV
The Manor is just as intimidating and imposing as I remember it. It's chilling, all dark stone and trauma. I jump every few feet, expecting some malicious apparition to attack. I wage a mental war against the flashbacks. I will not let him see me break.
But Merlin…the air is frigid and uninviting; the corridors are dully lit with intermittent torches, their flames flickering and throwing shadows to and fro over the grey walls. The portraits of purebloods watch me, worse than Number 12, disapproving, angry, hateful. Their stormy eyes follow me and I trail behind Draco, fighting my memories. Everything is dark and suffocating, closing in on me. I draw myself up to stand taller, to be dignified and brave, like I was before. It feels like a lifetime ago. I don't know who's dignified and brave anymore; so many have left because of this law.
"Mudblood—"
"I have a name," I snap angrily. I already have the word permanently carved into my forearm; why does he insist upon spitting it at me at every opportunity, as though his hatred can replace my identity?
"Did I ask you?"
"What happened to you, Malfoy?"
He glares at me, his grey eyes tempestuous as a stormy sea, and his angular face is contorted with anger. "It is none of your business. You are not my wife; you're a Ministry assigned partner. I don't care to engage you in conversation any more than absolutely necessary."
I decide I don't care enough to press the matter. The corridors are narrow and confining, winding to a spiral staircase. Door after door. Memory after memory. There are so many things that I want to tell him, to scream at him; I want to fix him, dig deep into his being until I find that singular kernel of intrinsic good that must be there, it must exist somewhere. But the silence hangs in the air, sucking the oxygen right out of my lungs and I can't cry because I can't even breathe. He opens the door to a small bedroom, forest green walls, charcoal bedding on a single bed, silver tables and picture frames, Slytherin pendants.
"You can stay here for the time being. I'll let you know when I see you fit to share the same bedroom as me," he sneers. I repress a disgusted shudder as his eyes rake over me, full of judgment. In the back of my mind, I recall Fred's brilliant blue eyes burning into me with a fire I had never seen.
I turn away from him, grateful for my loose-fitting clothing. I've never been one for showiness. "Don't do me any favours, Malfoy," I snarl right back. I slam the door in his face and plunge myself into the green and silver emptiness. A portrait of a woman with grey eyes watches me.
Fred's POV
"Well, this is the place," I say awkwardly, opening the door of the flat above the shop. I had led her through the aisles of products, up the secluded staircase, but she had seemed disapproving and put-off as her dark brown eyes scanned our inventions, scrutiny on her face.
The flat is large and, with the help of Silencing and Locking Charms, privacy shouldn't be an issue at all. But the bright colour scheme and abundance of orange don't seem to change the odd look on her face. "You alright, Cho?"
She wrinkles her nose slightly. "Fine. It's just…don't you ever wonder what it would have been like for you to go into something more…academic?"
I raise an eyebrow and look down at her (she's a little more than a head shorter) but she is undeterred in her unsolicited judgment. I feel a twinge of annoyance, but I repress it. If I could handle these questions from Mum, I can handle them from some swotty Ravenclaw. There's no way she could be worse than Hermione used to be. "This is what I enjoy doing. Is there a problem?"
She presses her lips, outlined in a dark brown lipstick, into a thin line, reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. That right there is strike two: first she questions my passion, then she reassembles one of my ancient former professors. Already I'm reluctant to sleep with her.
A/N: It does cut off rather abruptly, but I didn't see much point writing anymore. Thank you guys for the favourites and follows, and a million thank yous for the reviews; writers adore feedback and con crit. You know, since we can't get paid for this. I'll have my next chapter up sometime between in the next hour and like five years from now.