A/N: Thank you for everyone who is reviewing and enjoying, I really appreciate it :) Also so happy you love soft Theo and the letters between HG and DM! I've been going pretty hard on Nano so I may have another chapter for you by Friday. For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

October 25th, 1999 - Monday

The Leaky Cauldron is full when she arrives, with Madame Rosmerta manning the bar. A melancholy air that Hermione hasn't felt since the month after the war seems to soak in everywhere. She recognizes a few faces from work and her Hogwarts days, but she doesn't stop until she reaches the table off to the back right of the bar.

Sure enough, Harry and Ron are sitting there, squabbling with each other over some quidditch matter, and despite the depressing events that have occurred over the previous week, Hermione's spirits lift at the sight of their dear faces.

She slides in next to Ron and elbows him, mid-sentence. He closes his jaw with a snap and turns to her, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

"Hey Moine," he greets, "thanks for inviting us out. It's been ages."

Hermione laughs, "I saw you just a few days ago, Ron."

Harry scoffs from across the table, "You know what he means, it's hardly been just the three of us in forever."

Hermione nods, giving in easily, "It's true, it has been a while. So tell me everything. I know you have both have been thinking about the WPG Act."

Harry nods with a small smile, "Yeah. Hermione, I know this is not exactly the way I would have imagined marrying Ginny, but I can't say I'm unhappy about it. We're having a ceremony at the Burrow on November 6th, just two Saturdays from now. We want to keep it small; you know how the press will go if they catch wind of my wedding."

Harry rolls his eyes and Hermione nods, thinking how similar his words were to the ones she had written to Malfoy only the day prior. She fiddles lightly with the bracelet tucked under her cardigan's sleeve. Harry reaches across the table suddenly and grabs her hand in his, folding it closed. It's familiar, and Hermione smiles softly at the gesture.

"I've asked Ron to stand with me, and Ginny was hoping you would stand with her, Hermione. I've got no family other than you both, and nothing could ever mean more to me than you both being there. Ministry mandate be damned; this day is going to be full of happiness and bring my family together."

Hermione chokes back a lump in her throat, desperate to speak but unable to find words. Ron, however, has always been good with plowing through emotional situations and he reaches out and smacks his hand on top of hers and Harry's.

"Harry, mate, I'd say I speak for both of us when I tell you we would be honoured," he says, "this is the only good thing to come out of this daft Ministry WPG move, and I for one can't wait for you to officially be my brother."

Hermione swallows hard, "Ron has it completely right, Harry. Nothing would make me happier than standing with you and Ginny."

The moment lasts nearly an eternity in her mind; suspended in the wild cacophony of The Leaky Cauldron, her best friends in the entire world gripping her hand, the promise of forever and family branded on her skin.

"Harry," she says, "do you think I could invite Malfoy?"

Ron's head swings to her, his hand falling away with an incredulous expression. Hermione almost wants to take the words back, but she can hardly spend the next while avoiding the topic.

"I know… I know it's ridiculous," Hermione manages, "but you know that I have to marry him within the next thirty days. And it would be nice… it would be wonderful to still see my friends."

Ron's jaw clenches, but Harry nods decisively, "Hermione. You are welcome to bring anyone of your choosing to my wedding, but please promise me he will be polite. Ginny will murder him from the alter if he says anything, and I'd rather have no death at my wedding if it's all the same to you."

Hermione chokes on a laugh at his words. Ron seethes, his voice like acid in the quiet of their booth, "bloody hell, Harry, are you mad?"

Harry half shrugs, "We have little choice, Ron. Malfoy will be Hermione's husband, and like you just said, we're family. She could marry a literal ferret and I'd still have her stand with us, wouldn't you?"

It's a tense moment, but Ron heaves a sigh that Hermione feels in her bones, and rubs his forehead. "Moine, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I guess you should bring ferret boy along."

Hermione beams at them, "Oh, thank you both. I promise he'll behave, even if it means I have to hex him myself."

Harry chuckles at her words and sips his butterbeer. "So, have you spoken to him yet?"

Hermione flops back against the wooden booth with a heavy breath, "I went for coffee with him only two nights ago. We've a date tomorrow evening."

Ron's eyes bug, "Blimey, and I've only owled Hannah once."

Hermione smacks the arm closest to her, "Ronald Weasley, did I or did I not tell you to treat her nicely and actually talk to her?"

Harry frowns, "She's right, mate, that's a bit not good."

Ron grumbles, "I was nice. She answered me only this morning. I'll remember to write again tonight. I suppose I should invite her out."

"It's worth doing," Harry agrees, "I know you already know her as a friend, but it could be good to discuss your plans, and where you will go from here, you know?"

"It's true, Ron," Hermione chimes in, "you have to know if they want a big public wedding, or would rather an elopement, for starters. And it's important to know where you'll both live after you marry, and if she wants kids!"

"Why?" Ron snaps, "Doesn't matter if we want kids, does it? We've got to have them. So do you, both of you. No choice, remember?"

Hermione snaps her jaw closed. Ron's right, and she's been avoiding thinking about it. The WPG states they have one year from the letter's issue to conceive a child. That means that Hermione only has 362 days left. The bracelet seems to burn on her wrist, a beautiful but constant reminder that she is no longer free.

"It's all a bit much, isn't it?" Harry says, "I mean, don't get me wrong, both Ginny and I want kids. Eventually, though. Ginny was hoping for a few years on the Quidditch pitch before kids came along. Suppose it's not meant to be."

Ron heaves a sigh, "It's definitely not how any of us planned it. On the bright side, I know that Hannah wants kids, and sooner rather than later."

Harry whips his eyes to Ron. "What? How do you know that?"

Ron shrugs, "We talked about it once at a party. She mentioned how Neville was putting the brakes on, that he wanted to wait until later in life, and she was ready now."

Harry frowns as though he can't picture Ron ever involved in a conversation with Hannah about future children, but Ron's eyes slide apologetically to Hermione for a moment, and she flushes. It's all too easy to understand that this topic must have come up with Hannah near the end of Ron and Hermione's ill-fated romance. Though they had plenty in common as friends, as a couple Ron had been ready to move on from the war, ready for marriage and kids, and Hermione had barely healed, and the thought of caring for one more person rubbed at her scars all the wrong ways.

"That's good, Ron," Hermione manages, "you won't have any trouble adhering to the timeline on conception then."

Ron rubs the back of his neck and glances away. Harry breaks the awkward moment easily, "Hermione, tell us about your meet up with Malfoy. Did you discuss all the things you mentioned?"

Hermione scowls, "Not exactly. I was surprised to find out we have similar tastes in books, though."

Harry's laugh breaks up her foul mood, "Oh, Hermione. Why am I not surprised that the one thing you did talk about was reading?"

Hermione straightens her chin, a small smile breaking through, "Well, it means we have at least one thing in common, which frankly, was a shock to me. So that bodes well."

"It's not a bad thing, I suppose," Ron agrees, "I guess it could be worse. Hannah informed me in her letter that Neville got Pansy Parkinson. Can you imagine marrying her? You'd have more in common with a bloody flobberworm."

Harry cringes. Though he has often tried to be fair in his judgement of the Slytherin student's actions during the war, he has never forgiven Pansy Parkinson's vitriol.

"Poor Neville," Hermione sighs, "he's so gentle. She's going to eat him alive."

Ron visibly cheers, "Actually, speaking of being eaten, apparently Charlie has owled Astoria Greengrass. He mentioned his work with dragons, and she did not take it well. I think he's secretly hoping she'll visit and a Hungarian Horntail will solve his problem for him."

Hermione laughs, "Ronald, that's terrible. You don't think they'll get along, then?"

"Blimey, no. Astoria was well known in Hogwarts for being all beauty and no brains, and from what Charlie mentioned, that was on the mark. The thought of living in Romania was apparently 'unacceptable' to a girl like her."

Harry interjects, "Unfortunately, I agree with Ron on this, it seems like they won't be a good fit."

"What about Daphne? Did Percy owl her?"

Ron slaps the table, startling her, "Oh, my god, Mione — he did. It was hilarious. He sent her an owl with an entire timeline and conversational topics. He told her he wanted to create a 'thoroughly detailed plan of action'for their marriage."

Hermione cringes, "Oh no. Tell me she wasn't awful to him."

Harry interrupts, "That's the thing — she agreed!"

"Can you believe that Greengrass loon sent back an even more prat-ish letter accepting his offer and providing — and I am quoting Percy here — ' constructive improvements on their action plan'. I couldn't even stand Percy's summary of their letters; it was so dreadfully boring." Ron is nearly gasping through his laughter as he recounts the tale.

Hermione giggles, "Honestly, Malfoy said to expect something like that. I had mentioned Percy's match to Daphne, and he said she was nice but about as boring as watching pumpkins grow."

Harry grins, "At least the Ministry might have gotten one thing right, then."

"I also heard from Luna," Hermione adds, "they matched her to Theodore Nott. Before you panic, turns out Theodore isn't anything like his late father, and he's no Death Eater. I don't know anything else, but I invited her out this weekend, though she hasn't answered yet. Would you both be available Sunday?"

"Yeah," Harry agrees, "it's been a while since we've seen Luna."

Ron grumbles, "Nott might not be a Death Eater, but I still don't like it. How come none of the DA are landing Hufflepuffs or even Ravenclaws? So many Slytherins."

Hermione frowns at Ron's words, surprised she hadn't considered the connection before. The Ministry has hardly been transparent about how they matched the couples, and though she had inquired around the office lightly, no one seemed to know what the process had been.

She wonders briefly if she's been looking in all the wrong places, trying to find a way out of the marriage, a loophole. Perhaps she should dissect the how and why of the pairings.

"Ron," she murmurs, "sometimes you have flashes of bloody brilliance."

Ron frowns, "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing yet! But I've got to get going," Hermione gulps the last of her butterbeer, "I think you've given me a new avenue to research!"

Harry is only slightly quicker than Ron at connecting the dots, "You're going to figure out why we got paired with who we did? Do you think you'll be able to fight the WPG that way?"

Hermione heaves a sigh, "Honestly, I've no idea. I've been researching, but until McGonagall owls me the books Hogwarts has on previous wizarding population and marriage contracts between purebred families, I've got nothing to go on. It could be interesting to see how we were paired — I mean, what do I have in common with Draco Malfoy of all people?"

Ron huffs, "Other than your love of books, I'd say nothing. And Hannah's lovely — but why wouldn't she get Neville? What do I have that he doesn't?"

Harry nods, "It's a good starting point, Hermione. Let us know if you need help. I better get going too, Ginny will be home soon."

The Golden Trio exchange quick hugs outside the doors to The Leaky Cauldron. Harry apparates shortly after, though Hermione lingers for a moment longer. Ron is staring at the cobblestones at his feet, looking pensive.

"Ron," Hermione says gently, "I really do think you should invite Hannah out. She's probably just as scared as you."

"I know," he answers, "and I'm not scared of talking to her if that's what you're worried about. It's actually… it's actually George, to be honest."

Hermione's stomach drops, "George? What's happened?"

Ron shrugs, "He's gone off the deep end. It's like it was just after… well, you know. Hasn't even written Parvati yet. You know how he lives above the shop? Well, I haven't seen him at all since Friday, just heard him wandering around up there. I'm worried, Mione."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighs, "I'm so sorry. We have to give him time. Perhaps you should write to Parvati for him, say George is feeling under the weather but would love to meet with her next week? Give him at least that much time."

Ron nods seriously, "I'll do that. I just… I just don't know what the Ministry will do if we don't comply."

"You think he won't marry her?!"

"I don't know. I don't think it's even about her in his head, y'know?" Ron stares at her despondently, and it occurs to Hermione that he has frown lines at the edges of his mouth she's never seen before — so different from his usual grin.

"Ron, write to Parvati," Hermione advises, "and tell George you did so. I'll ask around the Ministry what the consequences are to not following the WPG — I have a feeling it won't be lenient if I'm honest."

"I think the same," Ron agrees, "they'd be fools to introduce this mandate and then let people escape it. Everyone would do it, otherwise."

Hermione reaches a hand out and squeezes Ron's bicep, "You don't worry about it, Ron. You just take care of George and Hannah, and you owl me if you need anything, okay?"

Ron smiles at her; it's tired but warm, and Hermione is flung back for a moment into the days when his smile made the world make sense again. There is no better person on this earth to take care of George Weasley, and Hermione impulsively leans forward and wraps her arms around Ron again.

"You know I love you, right?" She mutters, "You and Harry — you're the most important people in the entire world."

Ron squeezes her so tightly her ribs creak, but she doesn't complain. He musses her hair when he lets her go, and Hermione scowls at the action.

"Love you too, Mione," Ron grins, "and we're going to fix this. Fix all of it. The whole damn world if we have to."

She smiles, "Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

Ron's laughter echoes in her ears as she apparates home, still grinning as she lands in front of her gate. The sight of her cottage is welcome, and Hermione swishes her wand to pre-light the fire inside. She passes through her wards, letting the perfect feeling of safety envelop her.

There is a letter on her doorstep, a familiar crest on the front. She picks it up easily and heads inside, setting a few small charms up to tidy the area while she walks. It feels comfortable to plop into her favourite armchair and unroll the most recent letter from Malfoy.

'Dear Miss Granger,

I hope your day was better than mine. This morning I received news that Tracey Davis died. I realize you probably didn't know her well as she was in Slytherin, but she was a friend to me in Hogwarts. It just… seems unfair that she survived the war and is just.. gone.

Anyway. I spent the day mending my mother's old Solarium. Though I don't share her love of flowers, it seems like something I should do now that Fall is truly here. It's a pretty place, and there are very few of those left. Perhaps one day you'll see it.

I'll bring the Scamander book for you to borrow tomorrow evening.

Until then,

Mr. Draco Malfoy'

Hermione lets the letter fall to her carpeted feet listlessly. Tracey Davis. She hadn't known her, but the reminder of death and the war sits heavily on her heart. Malfoy's words, that it was unfair she survived the war and yet still died — they're true. Hermione wonders what she died of — it's uncommon for witches and wizards to pass away so young.

Hermione huffs a breath, pushing past the grim thought of Tracey, and moving on to the idea of Draco Malfoy repairing a garden he had no interest in. Though he had not explicitly said it, it wasn't hard to imagine he was doing it for the memory of his late mother. Though Hermione has never imagined Draco Malfoy as sentimental, it is becoming increasingly obvious that he loved his mother.

Hermione almost wants to see the Solarium. She can only imagine its majesty — but the thought of returning to Malfoy Manor, even now, is so abhorrent that it takes her breath away. She knows realistically she must go there, eventually; after all, she can hardly marry Draco and ignore the family Manor. She prays she won't have to live there — her cottage is comfortable and safe, and it has taken the better part of the last year to feel those things again.

Hermione stands, ignoring the letter on the carpet. Wandlessly she ends the household charms she had started and extinguishes her lights. She pads to her bedroom by feel alone, stripping bare and sliding between her sheets.

In the darkness, Hermione cannot escape her whirling thoughts. Harry and Ron's words from earlier rest uneasily on her. A child.

She wonders if Malfoy wants children. She can't imagine him as a father, and a fleeting memory of Lucius Malfoy makes her blood run cold. Hermione has pushed aside any ideas of children since long before the war, and she certainly had no intention of having them now, before the WPG Act. Still, she has no family left to speak of, and it might be nice to have people to come home to.

Hermione scowls in the darkness; it's hardly the right reason to have children. A coping mechanism to assuage her own loneliness. Though she supposes it hardly matters what her reasoning is since they have taken her choice from her.

Sleep eludes her, and Hermione contents herself with imagining what she'll do at work the following morning. She has a large technical report on the merpeople population in Great Britain that she has been postponing for a few days, and she's determined to tackle it.

Hermione finally falls asleep with thoughts of merpeople's rights and population growth dancing around her brain, her new bracelet sitting comfortably on her wrist.