Author's Notes:
Here's Chapter 157 for you!
As the end of the English academic year approaches, teaching staff have a thousand and one things they must do to prepare for September. It's times like these when I regret my career in education, not just for the physical exhaustion but also the emotional exhaustion as I prepare to bid farewell to my year six class (the oldest children in English primary school.
I find that the only time I have to write is on Sunday afternoon, so this chapter has taken a while—so long, in fact, that when I went to the beginning to edit, I had forgotten how it started and thought I had accidentally clicked on a different chapter.
Love, DW
P.S. Enjoy x
Despite Harry's strict work schedule in the Auror Department, he tries to catch most of his wife's Quidditch games by swapping shifts with his colleagues. Thankfully, he's lucky to have two days off this weekend, so he enjoys an extra hour in bed after Ginny's left for early practice. However, it doesn't last long with three young children in the house. After fifteen minutes, Harry wakes up to see two toddlers climbing up and jumping on his bed.
"Wake up, Daddy Harry," Teddy giggles, clopping down beside him, his small face transforming into a younger version of his godfather before him.
"Ten more minutes," Harry mutters, covering his head with his duvet.
"No!" James jumps on top of Harry and pulls the covers off his head. "Egg time."
Reluctantly, Harry rolls onto his back and reaches out for his glasses. "Fine, let's go make breakfast."
The two boys cheer as they race out of the room. Harry pulls on his dressing gown with a yawn and starts to follow them. He steps onto the first step before remembering to check on Albus in his nursery across the hall. The fourteen-week-old baby is staring up at the Quidditch mobile above his crib, watching the snitch as it twirls round and round. Since Albus seems preoccupied, Harry heads into the kitchen, starting breakfast.
As he scrambles eggs on the cooker, Harry listens to Teddy and James playing in the living room and wonders, not for the first time, why his youngest son is so quiet in a house full of rowdy toddlers and Ginny. Growing up, Harry had been forced to be silent in the Dursley's home, and over the years, he had grown accustomed to it and even found peace in the quiet. Maybe Albus just took after him.
The scent of eggs, bacon, and sausages must waft into the living room as Teddy and James run into the kitchen just as Harry plates their breakfast.
"Thanks you!" Teddy smiles widely, diving in.
"Ta," James adds, following his older brother's actions and scoffing eggs into his mouth.
"I'm going to get Albus up," Harry informs the boys, kissing them each on their heads before leaving.
In Albus' nursery, Harry greets his son with a smile. "Morning, sleepyhead."
Albus waves his tiny fists as Harry leans down to gently lift his son from his crib, holding him tightly against his chest. Harry hated the first few months when babies were their most fragile. His worst fear as a father was dropping his son, so he took each step one at a time as he headed back down into the kitchen. After sitting back down at the head of the table, he waves his wand towards the fridge, removing a bottle of milk, which he heats to the correct temperature before feeding Albus.
Glancing at the clock above the kitchen door, Harry calculates how much time he'll need to bathe and dress two toddlers, a baby and himself. He doesn't think he'll have enough time, but he can't let Ginny down.
As if some higher being had been reading his tired thoughts, the front doorbell rings before his mother-in-law lets herself in with her spare key.
"Molly, we gave you the key so you didn't have to ring the doorbell," Harry reminds her as she enters the kitchen.
"Harry, this house is big enough to get lost in. If I didn't ring the bell, you wouldn't know I was here," she explains, placing her handbag on the counter and kissing Teddy and James on the cheek. "I thought you could use some help with the boys, and if you're only now eating breakfast, I was right." Molly's tone isn't condescending, just concerned. "Have you been sleeping properly?" She adds, taking her youngest grandchild into her arms.
"Probably not; there's always something going on," Harry admits, handing over the bottle. "Do you mind finishing his bottle while I get the boys ready?"
"I never mind some extra Nana time," she says sweetly to Albus, placing the bottle in his mouth.
Bath time with two toddlers is hard, and Harry's glad he didn't decide to get dressed himself first. He's soaked through, but by the time he's finished, Teddy and James are clean with brushed hair and wearing their mini-Quidditch kits Ginny had left hanging on their dressers. Molly's already in the nursery, changing Albus into the green onesie that matches his brothers' kits, so Harry changes into his own Quidditch shirt and a pair of jeans. Before he knows it, they're ready to leave and are exactly on time.
The team's families can floo directly into the Holyhead Harpies stadium. Molly takes Teddy and James' hands and floos out of Grimmauld Place, leaving Harry to carry Albus in his baby carrier. Arthur is waiting for them in the floo room of the stadium along with all his children, who could make the match.
Harry falls in line beside Ron, who has Phoebe on his shoulders, and they quickly catch up on how each of them is doing. As usual, the crowd seems to part as the large group of Weasleys walk towards the lifts to the family boxes.
Once in the secluded room, the toddlers of the family are set free, and they immediately convene in the middle of the room, devising the rules of a new game before they start chasing each other. Harry unfastens Albus from his carrier, passing him over to Arthur, eagerly awaiting a cuddle from his grandson.
"How's it going, Albie?" Arthur beams, gently rocking the baby in his arms.
Harry frowns, already tired of correcting his family. "His name is Albus, Arthur."
Arthur's eyes flicker to his wife before apologising, "Sorry, Harry. Slip of the tongue." He shrugs, turning his attention back to Albus. "Look at those eyes, Albus. Wow, just like your father's."
Harry smiles softly, knowing Arthur is trying to placate him, but it still works. He has to admit that he was more than a little upset when James was born with Ginny's brown eyes, as he had hoped part of his parents' genes would be passed down. While James has the Potter mop of hair, the auburn colouring came from the Weasleys. Andromeda, who knew his parents quite well, had assured Harry upon first meeting Albus that he was the perfect split of his parents. Green eyes and freckles from his grandmother and dark, curly hair from his grandfather.
"Oi, Harry, come here!" Ron calls over from the seats, which overlook the massive stadium below.
"What's up?" Harry questions, sitting beside his friend and gazing across the thousands of fans waiting for the match to begin in fifteen minutes.
"I saw Hermione at the Light Switch On yesterday," he begins.
"Yeah, she mentioned she had seen you and Percy." Harry nods, wondering where this conversation was going.
"You saw her?"
"Yeah, she came to see me immediately," he explains.
"I thought it was a bit weird that she showed up when she told Pansy they weren't going to the Light Switch On." Ron shrugs, turning his gaze behind him to check no one's listening. "She said their plans had changed and disappeared straight after the fireworks. Is she planning something again?"
"No, she's taking a step back, remember?"
"Then what is she up to," Ron questions. "It's suspicious, right?"
Harry stares at Ron inquisitively. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
"We're getting close to taking down the Minister," Ron whispers. "And she's taking a taking a step back. Draco and his family did this in the war; right before the end, they turned their backs, and Draco got let off with community service. What if they know how this will go down, and that's why they're stepping back? They don't want to get caught up in this mess when it goes down."
"Come on, Ron. I'm not doing this again. Draco is not manipulating Hermione. They're taking a step back because they're expecting a baby and don't want to put the baby in danger," Harry sighs, feeling exhausted. "They were at the Lights Switch On because they were meeting Megan; she had information to pass on. They came straight to Grimmauld Place to let me know."
Ron's frown deepens. "What's going on?"
"I'm calling a meeting on Monday."
"We're all here," Ron gestures around his family. "Well, besides Percy, but you can tell him later."
Harry stands, wanting to get the news of a new Marriage Decree off his chest. He beckons Ron to follow him to the corner of the room, nodding for George and Arthur to join them. Bill, who had been conversing with them, makes a move to follow. Molly places a hand on his shoulder, quietly explaining to her eldest son that they're discussing Order business now.
"Dad!" Bill calls over, questioning why he can't be involved when he was an important Order member during the war.
Arthur locks eyes with Harry, who simply shrugs, placing the decision to include Bill on Arthur. The man waves his son over, and Bill joins their huddle, curiosity across his face.
"What's going on?" Bill asks, glancing around the circle before his eyes land on Harry.
"Megan, our MACUSA liaison, has picked up on some plans the Minister is implementing in the New Year. She passed this information onto Hermione and Draco last night in Diagon Alley, and they passed it on to me," he explains quickly, keeping an eye on the time. The game is due to start in five minutes.
"What is Kingsley planning now?" Arthur asks, his brows knitted together.
"It's never anything good," George mumbles.
"He's working with Mr Vyner and the Event Planning Committee on the next Marriage Decree," Harry states, not beating around the bush.
"Oh dear," Arthur mutters beneath his breath.
"Fuck sake," George sighs, his eyes flickering around as his brain works fast to understand the information. "He's always going on about how successful and fruitful our marriages have been. I don't understand why he needs to do another one. Haven't enough children been born?"
"Hermione discovered that the increased birthrate doesn't last long after the Decree, which the Minister no doubt knows about. Intel tells us he's more concerned about blood purity and children this time. We think he wants to erase pureblood the Minister's mind; rolling out another Marriage Decree will kill two birds with one stone." Harry removes his glasses and cleans the lenses on the edge of his shirt.
"How is this any better than what Voldemort was doing, getting rid of all the Muggleborns?" Bill points out.
"It's not like the Minister isn't out there killing purebloods. We'd have been up there with our connections to Hermione and Draco," Ron says.
George groans, placing a hand on Bill's shoulder, "You had the right idea by getting out of the country."
"I assume MACUSA and the ICW are aware of this. Does Megan know?" Arthur asks.
"Yes, but they don't want to stop it. They need the Ceremony to take place so they can use it as further evidence against Kingsley in his trial."
George pales, shaking his head. "It's disgusting. How can we sit aside and let a whole crop of young people go through this?"
"The Order is not going to sit aside. We don't work for MACUSA or the ICW. If we can devise a way to stop the new Marriage Decree, we will," Harry promises firmly. "But I don't have a clue, and it's risky for those of us who work within the Ministry. We're going to need all hands on deck."
"I'm more than happy to do my part," George agrees. "To think Kingsley was once one of us," he scoffs.
The commentators are beginning to announce the two teams, player by player, on the pitch. Ginny Potter's family gather by the window to cheer her on as she enters the stadium. Ginny flies around the stadium to loud applause, circling higher and higher until she's hovering in front of the window to her family box. The crowd watches on the screens as Ginny blows a kiss at Harry, who catches the kiss in his fist and brings it to his chest with a wink. Ginny throws her head back in laughter before diving down to her starting position, a smile still clear. Upon seeing himself on the screen, Harry smiles and waves to the crowd, then takes his seat, out of view of the cameras.
The game begins at midday with the sharp ringing of the referee's whistle and the eruption of the Quidditch ball case. Almost immediately, Ginny gets a hold of the Quaffle and makes a beeline for the opposing team's goal.
The Holyhead Harpies work brilliantly together. The chasers pass to each other over the heads of the Wigtown Wanderers' players as the beaters protect them against the bludgers sent their way. Although for every goal the Harpies score, the Wanderers push back fiercely, scoring one of their own.
After two hours, the score is tied up, so Harry's attention is on the two seekers, watching where their focus is held as they search for the snitch. He'd seen it at one point as it fluttered past their windows, but it quickly disappeared, moving faster than the one they used at Hogwarts since this was Quidditch League.
Bill stands, groaning as he stretches his back. "I need to go for a walk. Does anyone want a drink?"
His parents and sisters-in-law accept his offer, but he doesn't get far before George runs to catch up with him.
"You alright?" Bill asks, guiding his brother to the stairs instead of the lift.
"Yeah, I'm good." George nods as they weave through the people blocking the staircase. "Why?"
"Nothing, you look good. Better than you've looked in a while," Bill tries to pass the comment off as a joking brotherly dig.
George rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm used to working long hours and looking like shit most of the time; I get it."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Bill pats his back.
"Yeah, but that's best left unsaid, Bill," George admits, taking a shaky breath.
Bill smiles sadly. "So tell me, what's changed at work?"
"I put Ron in charge of the shop during the week. It's given me more time to be creative and be with Angelina and Freddie," George explains.
Bill glances at his brother knowingly. "We both know Ron isn't the most-"
"Responsible?" George offers.
"Yeah. I love him, but he doesn't take things seriously," Bill sighs. "Mum's still disappointed he didn't head into the Auror Training Programme with Harry."
George shrugs. "She brings it up sometimes, but we both know he wasn't cut out for that type of work life."
"You're right," Bill chuckles as they join the back of the queue for the drinks and snacks cart. "Percy called me last week," he broaches the topic.
George visibly stiffens. "What did he want?"
"Just to talk, really, but I'm worried about him. It's why I'm visiting, to be honest," Bill admits.
"What's going on with him?" George asks, frowning with concern.
"Do you speak with him much?" Bill carefully asks as the line moves forward.
George shrugs. "We're getting there. We're trying, but some days are harder than others."
Bill nods understandingly. "He will need his family once his baby is born."
"What's going on?" George asks again.
"He's got it into his head that Audrey is going to run off with their baby as soon as she's born," Bill explains.
George leans back, surprised. "Wow, I knew they hadn't made a connection, and we're all expecting them to divorce as soon as the baby comes, but I didn't think she's capable of being so cruel."
"I've only met her a few times; what's she actually like?" Bill asks, digging in his pockets for his coin bag as the person in front of them orders.
George pulls a face. "She goes through phases of making an effort with us and completely ignoring us. I don't know her; I've only met her a few more times than you."
Bill shakes his head. "I guess it's wishful thinking that the Minster might match people better in this new Marriage Decree."
"Or there's going to be a lot of students with parental issues at Hogwarts in ten years," George half-laughs. "Let's just hope we can stop it before it gets that far."
"I'm unsure what Harry thinks we can do in six weeks." Bill shrugs. "But I'm sure we'll figure something out," he adds, stepping up to the counter to order their bottles of juice, firewhiskey and a few chocolate bars for the kids.
George attempts to collect everything from the counter while Bill hands over the correct change but drops one of the chocolate frogs.
A young man, barely out of Hogwarts, bends down to pick it up for him.
"Thanks, man." George smiles politely at the man, who stares back, looking spooked and in awe.
It's a typical response from the youth of Wizarding Britain upon seeing the Weasleys. Being the brother of one of the Golden Trio comes with the territory.
George shrugs, brushing the encounter off as they return the lift to their family box. After handing out the drinks and snacks, the brothers settle back into their seats, ready to endure another few hours of the match. However, they've barely gotten comfortable when the Harpies seeker dives after the snitch, catching it within seconds, bringing the game to an end and the Harpies to victory.
The afterparty is legendary, and the Potters don't return home until well into the night. With no plans for the following day, they put their sons to bed and enjoy a quiet hour or two talking on the couch, enjoying each other's company, before heading to bed.
Monday morning arrives far too quickly for Hermione and Draco, who are running late as they floo to The Leaky Cauldron and then apparate to Hermione's parents' house to drop Scorpius off at nursery with Evelyn and Vivian. A quick kiss on the cheek to her parents and the kids is all Hermione can manage before they're back out the door, needing to get to Hogwarts in time for their first lessons at eight o'clock.
Thankfully, Hermione's first lesson is with the seventh-year students, who tend to get on with reading the textbook or reading over their homework. At the same time, she sets up for their lesson. However, when Hermione arrives, it seems she is interrupting an intense, whispered debate. Her students immediately return to their desks in silence.
"Is everything okay?" Hermione asks as she drops her bag on her desk.
"Yes, professor," Alannis Shepley, the Ravenclaw prefect, answers harshly.
Hermione scans the faces of her students. They look exhausted, like they hadn't slept well the night before. Instead of questioning the students, Hermione continues with her lesson. Usually, seventh-year students are more than willing to partake in class discussions, demonstrate spells, or ask their professor questions, but today is the quietest her seventh years have ever been. Hermione grows increasingly more concerned as the lesson continues, and she is met by blank faces and shrugs.
At the end of her lesson, Hermione instructs them to pack away their unused stationery, but before she dismisses them, she stands before them.
"I can clearly see something is bothering you all, and if it's the Minister's inspection next week, then I can assure you that he's not here to observe the students, just the professors and our lessons," Hermione explains. "If you have any deeper concerns, don't hesitate to speak to me or one of your other professors. We might be busy, but we're never too busy to ease your concerns."
"Can we leave now?" A Slytherin boy asks, already half-standing.
"Yes, you're dismissed," Hermione sighs, disappointed and confused.
An hour later, at break time, Hermione makes her way up to the staff room, where Draco is already making them both a cup of tea. This is their Monday routine, as they both have a free third period after their break.
"You have seventh years today, right?" Hermione asks, sitting beside Pansy at the table, where a selection of biscuits has been laid out.
"Yeah, I've got them fourth period, why?" Draco asks, placing three cups on the table.
"I don't know," she says, dunking a digestive biscuit into her tea. "Something is going on with them."
Pansy nods. "I was at breakfast; there's certainly something worrying them."
"Do you think it's the inspections next week? We're all stressed about it; maybe it's rubbed off?" Hermione suggests.
"Maybe," Pansy mutters thoughtfully. "Doesn't explain why it's only the seventh years acting weird."
As more professors join the staff room, their conversations move on, and they forget about the strange behaviour of the oldest children at Hogwarts.
Draco is in high spirits as he enters his classroom just before his next class arrives. He's spent his free period reviewing his lesson plans for the following week with Hermione and Filius, and he's actually looking forward to proving himself to the inspectors. However, he doubts the Minister will appreciate all the work he's put in and will probably look for the smallest thing to pull him up on.
A few minutes later, his seventh-year class mopes into the classroom, suddenly reminding him of Hermione's concerns. He takes in each student as they find their seat and notices they all look either hungover or tired. Perhaps there had been a secret party over the weekend. Draco can't remember if there had been a Quidditch match yesterday.
Draco jumps straight into his lesson, which he has to admit isn't the most exciting topic since there's a lot of input, and he'd rather get it over with before the inspections next week. As Draco discusses the differences between two similar potions that they are expected to make as part of their practical NEWT grade, he feels that no one is listening to him.
Pausing, Draco sits on the edge of his desk, overlooking his students until he gains all their attention after they've noticed he's no longer droning on.
"I know this lesson is quite boring, but we do need to get it over with so we can start the practical elements next week," he informs them.
"For your inspections?" A Gryffindor girl scoffs.
Draco wonders where the attitude comes from. He has worked hard over the last few years to earn his students' respect as their professor.
"This term is dedicated to making certain potions as their ingredients are in season. It is pure luck that the week I planned to conduct the practicals is the same week the Minister will conduct his inspections," Draco assures them. "If you're not ready for the practical lesson, I will push that lesson back, especially since I doubt any of you could tell me much about what I've spent the last forty minutes talking about."
"Sorry, professor," the girl apologises.
"Was there a party at the weekend? Or a quidditch match?" He asks.
A few of his students shake their heads.
"So you're not hungover?"
An array of emotions cross their face: surprise, amusement, shock, or nerves.
"You know, it was only a few years ago that I was sat in your seats, worrying about my potions NEWT exam, my career after Hogwarts, and… other things," he pauses, realising soon, these students will be in the exact same place he was, once the new Marriage Decree is announced.
"The Marriage Decree?" A child questions.
"Yeah," Draco sighs, deciding to move on before he tells the children of their upcoming future. "What helped ease my worries is attending Professor Slughorn's office hours," he lies, knowing he had continued to stress about his NEWTs until he received his grades in August. "My office hours are Wednesday first period and Friday sixth period, which I know you all have free; I checked." Draco smiles knowingly at his students. "And it just happens to fall before our lesson."
"Are your office hours only for potion questions?" Someone asks.
Draco's eyes soften. "Of course not. If you're worried about anything, come see me, and I'll try my best to help."
"Even if we're not a Slytherin?"
"I couldn't care less what house you're in. If you're a student in this school and need help with anything, no matter how small, talk to me. Merlin knows my time at Hogwarts would've been easier if I'd had a trusted professor to talk to about my problems," he admits.
His students' faces brighten as they leave his classroom, and Draco just hopes they take him up on his offer of support.
Nothing could've prepared Draco for Friday. Over the week, the seventh-year students seemed to be in higher spirits wherever they went. When nobody attended his Wednesday office hour, he assumed that whatever they were collectively going through had passed. However, he had just dismissed his fourth-year class on Friday when a knock at his classroom door brought him out of his marking.
"Enter," he calls out, pushing his parchment into a drawer to mark later.
Surprisingly, eight students walk through his door together. Draco obviously recognises them as the seventh-year prefects from each house.
"What is the meaning of this?" He questions, glancing across each face.
"Professor Malfoy, you told us you would help us with anything, correct?" As Head Girl, Alannis Shepley takes the lead, stepping before the other prefects.
"That's correct," he agrees. "Is somebody in trouble?"
"It has come to our attention that we all are in trouble, sir?" Alannis Shepley states.
"What do you mean?" Dozens of troublesome ideas run through Draco's head.
"Professor," Head Boy and Hufflepuff Prefect, Reuben Nobel, steps forward. "We have been informed that the Minister is planning another Marriage Decree for our graduation."
Draco's eyebrows shoot up as he steps back. "Where did you hear that?"
"Our source overheard two Weasley brothers discussing it at the Holyhead Harpies match last weekend. He immediately sent an owl to his sister, who passed it on to her prefect," Alannis Shepley explains.
Anger settles deep in his stomach. The information was supposed to be kept strictly on a need-to-know basis. If they're not careful, the news will spread throughout Wizarding Britain, and before they can plan anything, the Minister will act.
"From your reaction, sir, it is clear you already knew about the Minister's plans," Imogen Thicket, Gryffindor prefect, states in annoyance.
"Yes, it was Professor Granger and I who passed the information on to Mr Potter, who I assume informed the Weasleys," he explains, attempting to hide the irritation in his voice.
"Were you going to tell us, or just let the Minister spring this upon us?" Flora Dawson, the Hufflepuff Prefect, questions as she holds back tears.
Draco schools his features to portray how serious he feels about the news. "I can assure you all that specific people are working hard to find a way to stop this new Decree, but there is no guarantee our plans will work. I'm glad you all know so you can prepare yourselves for the worst in case our plans fail," he informs them.
"What are The Order's plans, sir?" Ronan Bennet, Gryffindor Prefect, asks.
"It has been a week since we became aware of the new Marriage Decree, and we are yet to come up with anything concrete," Draco admits.
The prefects turn to face each other, holding a silent conversation with their expressions and hands until Alannis Shepley decides enough is enough.
"I say we trust him. Who else is as open and willing to help as Professor Malfoy?" She asks, and when no one retorts, she turns back to him. "Professor, we have devised our own plan, and we hope you can help us."
Draco doesn't feel good about this but is curious enough to let them continue. "Why my help? Why not Professor Granger? Or Professor Longbottom?"
"Please, sir, be serious," Flora Dawson chuckles. "We love Professor Longbottom, but we can not trust him with this matter."
"And Professor Granger," Imogen Thicket adds. "She wants what is best for us, but at the end of the day, she cares too much about our grades and performance in class."
"And I don't?" Draco asks, genuinely surprised not to be considered the uncaring, strict professor he often portrays.
"Of course you do, but you're more… passionate about your subject, and you want us to have that passion, too. You're not just teaching us for the sake of passing our NEWTs, like most other professors do," Saria McEvoy, the Slytherin Prefect, responds. Draco feels his heart burst from the compliment.
"And your speech on Monday about how you couldn't care less which house we were in because if we needed help, we could come to you," Thaddeus Elliott, the other Slytherin Prefect, reminds him. "Helped us narrow our list of trusted professors to just you. We trust you, as Slytherins, but it helped convince the Gryffindors."
"No offence," Imogen Thicket shrugs.
"None taken, Miss Thicket." Draco smiles. "I'm honoured to be named as your most trusted professor, but I cannot agree to help you with your plan until I have heard the details."
"We must forewarn you, sir, that our plan involves having some dubious morals and a willingness to go against the Minister, which seems right up your alley, sir," Alannis Shepley comments.
Draco laughs, "Yes, I'm aware of my past. Will your plan include any illegal actions that could end me up in Azkaban?"
"No, sir," Alannis answers firmly.
"Then continue." Draco nods, leaning against a desk.
The prefects nervously glance at Alannis, who seems too anxious to announce their plan. So Flora Dawson steps forward and blurts out, "We want you to marry us."
"What!" Draco stands, profoundly confused.
"All seventh-year students have agreed that this is for the best. It wasn't easy, but we managed to pair ourselves up. We'd like you to officiate the marriage ceremony," Reuben explains.
Draco stands, shaking his head. "I cannot do that. For one, I'm not an officiant-"
"It's quite simple. We have the documents for you to sign. You'll just need to file them with the Head of the Registration Department," Ronan Bennet explains. "My brother works in the Ministry and retrieved the forms for us. The Head of the Registration Department is-"
"Alexander Vyner, I know him well," Draco sighs, knowing how easy it would be to legally and secretly become an officiant.
"Perfect!" Alannis Shepley grins. "Will you do it then? Will you marry us?"
Covering his face, Draco begins to question his purpose. He promised to protect his students and wouldn't technically break any decrees.
"All seventh-years are of age, correct?"
"Yes, Sir. We are all over seventeen; some are eighteen," Reuben Nobel declares.
"Let me see the documents." He holds his hand out of the few pieces of parchments that he would need to sign.
They had supposedly filled in most of the information for him to make it easier. All he would need to do is provide a reason for wanting to become an officiant and swear to a set of rules.
"You have sprung this upon me quite suddenly. I shall need time to think about it." Draco checks his watch. "The rest of my seventh-year students will be arriving soon; perhaps those of you who aren't taking the NEWT should head to your next class," he suggests, folding the documents up and placing them in the inside pocket of his robes.
Panic spreads across the prefects' faces until Saria McEvoy snaps, "Sir, with all due respect, we do not have time. In five weeks, the Minister will likely announce his Second Marriage Decree. If it is anything like last time, all marriages will be banned. If we are to be forced into marriage, we want to get married on our own terms and to whom we choose."
"You have randomly appointed each other a partner; where is the choice there?" Draco argues.
"What did you expect us to do, fall in love?" Saria McEvoy scoffs. "We do not have time to wait for The Order to come up with some poor excuse of a plan to stop the Decree. We all know the Minister is too stubborn to go back on his plans. This is our only choice, and if you disagree, we will ask Ronan's brother to officiate our marriage during our next Hogsmeade trip. You were our first and best choice, Sir, but not our only choice."
Draco is left worried about the prospect of some low-level Ministry employee getting caught trying to marry thirty-four Hogwarts students.
"Give me the weekend to think over the details and risk. I will get back to you in our Monday potions lesson," Draco suggests.
The eight students exchange looks, each nodding in agreement.
"You have the weekend, sir," Saria McEvoy agrees, dumping her bag beside her seat as the footfalls of the rest of his seventh-year class can be heard echoing down the dungeon corridor.
The few students who aren't in his NEWT class take their leave after he mutters a quick thank you to Professor Malfoy. Draco shoves the documents into his messenger bag to peruse at home. The impending Minister Inspection, occurring the following week, has all but left his mind, a new worry taking its place, as he begins to write the appropriate notes on his chalkboard and sets the students off with their first task.
Throughout the lesson, Draco can feel the eyes of his students glancing at him hopefully, almost begging him to accept. A heavy feeling of guilt settles in his stomach at the thought of having to decline their offer. They may only be a few years younger than him, but the war forced his generation to mature to the point where he looks at his students and sees a room full of children despite them being of age.
Hermione immediately recognises a shift in her husband's demeanour when they meet in their rooms, ready to leave Hogwarts for the weekend.
"Are you feeling well?" She asks, placing a hand on his brow.
"I'm fine," he mutters, avoiding her hand. "Just worried about next week."
Hermione nods, accepting his answer. After all, every professor worried about the Minister's inspection the following week.
"We've prepared and planned enough; all that's left is for us to do our best, and if that isn't good enough for the Minister, then we'll deal with the consequences when they come," Hermione tries to assure him, but his tight-lipped smile doesn't bode well for a carefree weekend.
Saturday finds Draco unable to focus on one train of thought as he paces throughout the house and gardens. He needs to concentrate on his lesson plans, but he's growing more distracted by the folded documents that the Seventh Year prefects had given him. They were hidden in his desk drawer. He knows he should tell Hermione, but something is holding him back. Most likely, his wife will try to dissuade him from accepting his role in the prefects' plans. He's putting his job and livelihood at risk, but he's not convinced Hermione will accept his excuse of needing to protect their students. After all, the Order might come up with something before the New Year. Something that doesn't involve Draco taking such a central role.
For the most part, Hermione leaves him alone. However, on Sunday morning, when Draco states he's going for a walk, she stipulates that he should take Scorpius with him. They end up down by the river, trousers rolled up, as they dip their toes into the refreshingly chilly water.
"Daddy okay?" Scorpius asks as they sit on the bank.
Draco nods. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Scorpius." He bops his nose, making his son laugh.
That might not be entirely true. Minister Shacklebolt clearly has members of the Wizengamot on his side, or they would've never agreed to the first Decree, never mind this second one. What's stopping one of them from taking over after Shacklebolt's takedown? In sixteen years, he might be sitting here with an of-age Scorpius, who is being put in the same situation, and would he not do everything in his power to stop it for his son's sake.
Mind made up, Draco places Scorpius up on his shoulders and rushes home. Hermione's quite surprised by her husband's determined expression on his face as he bursts into the living room with a giggling Scorpius in his arms.
"Have you finally sorted everything going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Hermione grins, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Draco smiles, hugging his wife. "I need to go out and make plans. I'll tell you everything later."
"Tell me what?" Hermione frowns. "I thought this was about the inspection."
"No, whatever happens next week, I'm ready for it, but some things are more important than impressing a man I hold no respect for," he states, kissing her forehead. "I'll be back later."
Draco rushes into his study, grabbing the folded documents from his drawer.
"What's that?"
"Don't worry about it!" Draco calls as he grabs his cloak, since the weather is starting to turn, and rushes to the fireplace, where he floos away, leaving a flabbergasted Hermione behind.
Draco wanders through the foyer of the Ministry towards the lifts that will take him down to the Department of Registration; he can't help noticing how silent and empty the place seems. He knows the majority of Ministry workers only work Monday to Friday, but he had expected to see some Aurors or middle management workers needing to get their work finished for Monday. At least now he didn't need an excuse for being in the Ministry if anyone asked.
After knocking on the Department of Registration's office door, Draco enters to find Alexander Vyner sitting at his desk, looking dishevelled. The man glances up at the sound of his knock and doesn't hide his surprise very well.
"Mr Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He sighs, leaning back in his chair.
"I think you know, Mr Vyner," Draco replies as he approaches the man's desk.
Alexander Vyner sighs, "Amuse me, Draco."
Draco smiles, "Well, Alexander, it has come to our attention that you are hiding information from the Order."
"I am not a member of the Order. We have an agreement, based on our mutual hatred of the Minister, that we will help each other when necessary. However, there's nothing the Order can currently help me with, so I have no reason to help the Order," Alexander argues.
"You think the Order wouldn't be able to help with the new Marriage Decree?" Draco questions.
"I'm glad you know about it, but no. There's nothing the Order can do to put a stop to it. The Minister is pushing his belief that the first Marriage Decree was extremely successful and is ready to fight anyone who would claim otherwise."
"He criminalised us not having a child, and when you live in close quarters with your assigned partner for two years, a connection is inevitable in most cases, but I'm sure most people would agree that they would go back and stop the Marriage Decree if they could," Draco states.
"Even yourself?" Alexander quirks a questioning eyebrow.
"Yes. Hermione and I had already developed a sort of acquaintanceship during our eighth year. Given the chance, I believe we would've grown closer during our apprenticeship at Hogwarts and gotten to this point on our own."
"I guess we'll never know, but you two are the best thing to come from the first Marriage Decree," Alexander compliments.
"Thank you." Draco takes the seat opposite Alexander.
"You've caused nothing but trouble for the Minister. I'm sure if he could go back, he wouldn't have paired you two together," Alexander suggests.
"Is that why the requirements are changing this time? Focusing on blood status and number of children?" Draco asks.
"You know more than I expected."
"You underestimate the Order," Draco retorts.
"There's nothing you can do to stop it."
"I know that. The Order's still catching up, but we've underestimated the seventh-year students, too."
Alexander's brows rise in surprise. "You told them."
"No, but they are aware of their impending marriage and have devised their own plan to disrupt the Minister's decree."
"Do I want to know?"
"You need to know. We need your permission," Draco says, already feeling like he's committing some sort of crime. If the public ever finds out about what he's planning to do, he's sure they'll all accuse him of being morally corrupt again. It makes sense why his students came to him.
"Go ahead," Alexander prompts.
"They plan to get married before the New Year when they expect the Minister to ban all marriages within their age group. They asked me to officiate their marriage ceremonies. I've taken the time to go over their plan, and I've decided to help them. No one stood up to try and help us during the first Marriage Decree, and they trust me to be that person."
Alexander's expression softens. "They shouldn't be going through this at all, but you're doing a noble thing by stepping up to help them. I assume you're here for me to sign the officiant documentation."
"Yes, they filled it out; I just had to sign my name and give a reason. I can't exactly write 'to officiate the marriage of thirty-eight of my students'," Draco laughs tiredly. "Any ideas?"
"If the Minister catches wind of this, we'll both be punished harshly, so we need a good reason." Alexander pauses to think. "Do you have any unmarried friends who would be willing to help for the sake of the greater good?" He laughs.
Draco's mind immediately lands on Blaise, who would definitely be down for such shenanigans, but he doesn't know if Benjamin would be willing. They've only officially been dating for a few weeks, even if they've acted like it for years.
"All I can do is ask," Draco mutters. "Will you still be here in an hour?"
"I can be," Alexander agrees, wondering which of Draco's friends is about to be pulled into this disaster plan.
"I'll be back."
Draco heads to the apparation floor, immediately disapparating to Blaise and Benjamin's apartment complex. Knowing the code to gain entry, Draco races up the stairs and along the corridor to their front door, where he bangs on it.
"What is going on?" Benjamin asks upon opening his front door.
"Is Blaise here too?" Draco asks, bursting into the living room and scanning around.
"He's in the shower."
"I need him out here, now," Draco pants, perching on the arm of their couch to catch his breath.
Recognising the seriousness of Draco's tone and appearance, Benjamin knocks on the bathroom door before entering. Draco can hear the two men talking after the shower has been turned off. Blaise leaves the bathroom wrapped in a towel and dressing gown a moment later.
"What's going on, Draco?" Blaise asks, worry clear across his face.
"This is going to sound insane, but let me explain," Draco pauses for their permission to continue.
Blaise nods in agreement that they'll hear him out.
"How would you like to get married within the next few weeks?"
"What's he talking about, Blaise?" Benjamin asks, eyes wide in shocked horror.
"I don't know. Explain, Draco."
"There will be a Second Marriage Decree announced in the New Year. My seventh-year students found out and asked me to get officiated and marry them off to each other. However, the application form requires a reason for needing to be officiated, and I can't exactly write the truth. So, how would you both like to get married? I can use you as my reason and then marry you on the same day as the students; that way, there'll be no discrepancies."
"We can't get married," Benjamin states, and Blaise tries to hide the hurt on his face.
"I know you've only been dating a few weeks, but you've known each other for years, and I know you're serious about each other. You won't be married in the Muggle world, just our world," Draco tries to convince them. "Oh, it just dawned on me. If you're married, Benjamin would be allowed in the Wizarding world without excuse or disguise."
"It's illegal. We can't marry," Benjamin seems to be reminding them.
Blaise turns to his boyfriend in confusion.
Draco remembers the conversation he had with Alarte not long ago. "It's not illegal in the Wizarding World. As long as you're both of age, anyone can get married."
"We can get married?" Benjamin stares at Blaise in awe.
"If you want," Blaise shrugs, then remembers that he's trying to be open with his feelings. "I know I want to, eventually. I was thinking in a year or two, but why wait."
Benjamin steps closer to his boyfriend. "You've been thinking about us getting married?"
"Yeah, we've loved each other for ages. It seems like the natural next step," Blaise explains, resting his hands on his waist.
Benjamin's eyes crinkle as he smiles and wraps his arms around Blaise's neck. "Luna has Pandora for a few months; we could travel again for our honeymoon."
"Are we actually doing this?" Blaise asks, staring deep into Benjamin's eyes.
"My family wouldn't be able to attend, though," he sighs sadly.
"We can have another ceremony for them once we've been together a bit longer, so it's less of a shock for them," Blaise suggests, and Benjamin nods at everything he says.
"When is the date set?" Benjamin turns to face Draco.
"Let me get back to you on that. I don't think my students actually believe I would do this for them," Draco admits.
"Why are you doing this for them?" Blaise asks.
"When I became a professor, I swore to protect my students. No one stepped up to protect us from our Marriage Decree, and now I'm in a position to help; I want to help them." Draco admits.
"So it has nothing to do with the fact they asked you and no one else."
Draco smiles. "I was their first choice. Anyway, I'm going to file the documents now. I'll send an owl with the date. You'll need to consider who you want as your witnesses and whether you want to make a big event out of it or keep it simple."
"Nothing I have ever done has been simple, Draco," Blaise answers, feigning offence.
Draco laughs, "Thank you so much, both of you."
Blaise pulls him into a hug.
"I'll be in touch," he assures them both, clapping Benjamin on the shoulder as he leaves.
Draco storms into Alexander Vyner's office with a broad smile. "They agreed. We're on!"
Alexander grins mischievously as he stands, holding his hand out for Draco to shake.
"It feels nice to be doing something good," he admits.
Draco laughs, "For once. Maybe this will make up for all the terrible things I've done."
"When you were a child?" Alexander asks. "I think you've been absolved of all that. You're working in the positives now, Draco."
Alexander's words are kind, but Draco finds them hard to swallow. He might have been a child, but he was old enough to know better. After all, he was the same age as most of the students he'd be officiating.
"All I need you to do is sign the document here and here." Alexander points at two lines in the document. As soon Draco signs, Alexander adds, "You are now an officiant for the next six weeks. That should be plenty of time. I will give you a pile of marriage certificates you must sign with two other witnesses who aren't getting married. And here's the leaflet with the marriage orders. Follow the speech inside, and we'll have no issues."
"Thank you, Alexander. You've done so much for us over the years, and we can never thank you enough," Draco states.
Alexander shrugs. "The Minister is making a mockery out of my department. I can't just sit back and watch.
"Sure, all you care about is your job." Draco rolls his eyes with a smile. "Next time I see you, it'll be done."
"Understood. Best of luck."
Upon stepping foot inside his house, Draco heads straight for his office to hide the documentation he had received from Alexander. However, to his surprise, Hermione was already there, sitting at her desk, waiting for him.
"Are you going to tell me where you've been?" She asks, arms crossed and face sour.
"I told you I can't tell you right now," Draco explains.
"You said you'd tell me later."
"Now is not later, Hermione. I'll tell you once it's done."
"You're scaring me."
"It's not illegal, but I doubt the Minister would be happy with my actions. It's better that you don't know."
Hermione stares at him sternly, hoping her silence will get him talking.
"I'm trying to protect you and the kids, Hermione. If something happens to me, you need plausible deniability," he explains.
"How noble of you!" She sarcastically retorts, raising to her feet.
"Hermione!"
"Do what you want, Draco, but I won't be there to pick up the piece when it ultimately fails. We never win when we go against the Minister. Something worse always happens in the aftermath. That's why we're working with MACUSA and the ICW. We don't go out on our own against him," Hermione shouts.
"This isn't about him. It's about everyone else," Draco states, his voice rising louder. "Some things are more important than us and our mission to take down the Minister. Some people are completely helpless against the Minister, and if there's a way I can help them, I will because nobody helped us."
"What's more important to you, your family or them?" Hermione asks.
"That's not fair, Hermione. If anything happens to me, the children will have you, your family and our friends. They have no one."
"I can't talk to you right now," Hermione admits, shaking her head as she storms out of their office.
"Hermione!" Draco calls after her. "You'll understand soon why I have to do this."
"It won't take away the pain of knowing you can't trust me with this," she returns.
"I trust you with everything," he says, following her up the stairs. "But I made promises, and I need to be trusted."
"Whatever, Draco," Hermione slams their bedroom door in his face, locking it before he can even reach for the handle.
They both know he could easily use his wand to unlock the door to continue their argument. However, it's clear Hermione is done, and despite what she might think now, he does respect her and her boundaries. So, after checking on Scorpius, Draco heads into the spare bedroom beside his room, ready for a long night of tossing and turning away from his wife.
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