The Great Hall buzzed with the usual excitement of the start-of-term feast. Fred Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table, leaning in close to George, Lee, and Alicia as they bantered back and forth. Angelina Johnson, sitting beside Fred, had her hand resting lightly on his. Her fingers twined with his as they whispered quietly to each other, laughing at something Lee had said. It was a comfortable atmosphere—just like every year before this one, as the new students were sorted and the start-of-term speeches were about to begin.

The Sorting Hat was in the middle of its song when Fred's attention suddenly wavered. A laugh, sharp and unmistakable, echoed from across the hall, drawing his gaze immediately. He turned toward the Slytherin table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught sight of the source.

There, leaning against Adrian Pucey, sat Addie Malfoy—Draco's older sister. Fred had shared many classes with her over the years, and though they'd never been friendly, he had an undeniable sense of her presence. She was hard to ignore, with her long, platinum blonde hair that flowed all the way down her back. Fred had seen it up in a neat ponytail in some of their classes, but tonight, it was pulled loosely into a messy bun, her wand poking through it as if she couldn't be bothered to do it properly. Even with her hair in disarray, it suited her—like she had better things to focus on than perfecting her appearance, which, as Fred had always thought, was ridiculous considering how naturally beautiful she was.

Addie had a certain air about her that was different from the usual Slytherin crowd. Tall and athletic, she had a broad, muscular build that seemed out of place in a house known for its slick, aristocratic attitudes. She wasn't petite or delicate like many of the girls around her, instead carrying herself with the strength of someone used to leading, dominating even. It was no surprise she was Slytherin's Quidditch Captain and Keeper, a position she'd earned through sheer grit and skill. There was a quiet power in the way she moved, the way she carried herself like she wasn't afraid of anyone, even the Malfoys, whom Fred didn't know constantly treated her like a failure.

Fred watched her, not for the first time, feeling something he couldn't quite place. She had always seemed distant, detached from everything, and their rivalry on the Quidditch pitch was nothing short of legendary. They hated each other there, but in a way that was filled with mutual respect. Even so, there was something else that Fred couldn't quite put his finger on—a mystery, an unspoken tension between them that had only deepened over the years. And now, tonight, with the chaos of the Sorting behind them, he found his attention drawn to her again.

She was talking to Adrian now, her lips curving into a slight smile as she whispered something in his ear. The smile looked genuine, but there was a shadow behind her eyes, something Fred could sense, even from this distance. He watched as she glanced toward the Gryffindor table for a split second, her gaze lingering on the group for just a moment before she looked away, dismissing them. He couldn't help but wonder if she was aware of his scrutiny.

The conversation at the Gryffindor table picked up again, but Fred's thoughts drifted back to Addie. No one really understood her. She had always kept to herself, even when they were forced to work together in class. Cold, calculating, and always a bit standoffish, she played the role of the perfect Slytherin. But Fred thought there was more to her than that. Beneath the icy exterior, there was something raw, something fiercely protective and even, dare he say it, vulnerable. Something he had glimpsed a few times in passing—a flash of kindness, of humanity. But he couldn't trust that. Not with a Malfoy. Not with someone so tied to his rivalries, his family, and his worst enemies.

"Fred, you listening?" George nudged him sharply, pulling Fred from his thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah," Fred muttered, turning back to the table, but his mind was still on Addie.

Dumbledore stood up then, his silver beard flowing as he greeted the students with his usual warmth. The hall quieted, and Fred shifted in his seat, finally tearing his gaze away from Addie.

"Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "May this year bring you knowledge, friendship, and, above all, happiness."

The hall broke into applause, the tension easing as the students welcomed the new term. Fred clapped along with the others, but his mind wandered, distracted once again by the strange and unexpected force that was Addie Malfoy.

Dumbledore continued, giving a brief overview of the year ahead, before pausing to allow a new, unfamiliar figure to step forward. The mood shifted almost immediately as Professor Umbridge, a small, round woman with too much pink, stood up from the staff table. The whispers started immediately. Fred grimaced. Umbridge. The Ministry's newest puppet, here to cause trouble as always.

A series of muffled coughs echoed from her throat as she moved to the front, and Fred felt his stomach drop. This wasn't going to be good.

"Ahem," Umbridge said, clearing her throat loudly. "Yes, thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I am pleased to be here with you this evening." Her voice was saccharine sweet, but Fred could tell immediately that this woman was trouble. "As many of you know, the Ministry is deeply concerned about the future of the wizarding world. Specifically, the lack of marriage and children within our community."

Fred frowned, the words not quite processing. What was she talking about?

"In light of this, the Ministry has decided that all seventh-year students will be paired with a spouse this year. You will be notified by owl on Saturday with your match," she continued, her smile widening. "You will then have one year to marry and two years after that to bear a magical child."

Fred felt as if the room had been plunged into cold water. The chatter that erupted after Umbridge finished was deafening, a cacophony of confused and angry voices. The students at the Gryffindor table exchanged horrified glances, and Fred's mouth went dry.

"Wait, what?" he muttered, looking at Angelina. "They're going to make us marry someone? Like—anyone?"

Angelina gave him a wide-eyed look. "I don't know what's worse: the fact that they're actually going through with this, or the fact that you might end up with someone other than me."

Fred squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. You're stuck with me. We've been dating over a year, right?" He grinned, though the uneasy knot in his stomach refused to loosen.

Across the hall, Fred's eyes flicked to Addie Malfoy once again. She was looking down now, her face unreadable as she whispered something to Adrian, who was frowning, his arms crossed.

"Girls are too complicated anyway," Ron said, breaking the silence that had fallen over their table. "Good thing it's just the seventh years. I don't know how anyone can understand them."

Harry laughed at Ron's comment, but Hermione's brow furrowed slightly, the faintest hint of hurt flickering across her face.

Fred couldn't help but let his gaze linger on Addie Malfoy, wondering how she felt about this. How would someone like her, someone so fiercely independent, deal with being forced into a marriage she didn't want? He didn't know.

The first week of school was filled with an underlying tension that no one could ignore. The announcement of the marriage law had sent ripples of unease throughout the student body, especially among the seventh years. Everywhere Fred went, the atmosphere felt thick with whispered conversations, anxious glances, and furtive glances toward the owls, wondering when their match would arrive. The boys from his group, Lee and George, seemed to be taking it in stride—well, as much as they could—but Fred couldn't shake the unease that settled deep in his stomach. He was dating Angelina, but with so much uncertainty swirling around them, he found himself questioning what this law meant for their future. Would they be forced to marry someone else? Would he and Angie be matched together, or would fate tear them apart?

Throughout the week, students grew desperate for answers, trying every angle to get out of the marriage law. A few Slytherins were overheard discussing possible ways to manipulate the system, but even they seemed unsettled. As for the Gryffindors, there were hushed talks about whether they could somehow convince the Ministry to reverse the law, or if it would be possible to marry a person they were already involved with.

Fred found himself leaning toward the latter, trying to convince himself that he and Angelina had nothing to worry about. But even he couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that the whole thing was wrong. Nothing felt certain anymore.

By Friday afternoon, things had only gotten worse. It was supposed to be a day of reprieve, at least for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had been anxiously awaiting their tryouts for the upcoming season. The team had been looking forward to getting back on the pitch, putting their frustrations aside and focusing on something they loved. But when they arrived at the Quidditch pitch, there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for them.

Slytherin.

Addie Malfoy, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, stood at the head of her team, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the practice area with a sense of territorial ownership. Her blonde hair was braided in two french braids down her back, contrasting sharply with her green quidditch robes and the silver number 1 on her back.

Fred stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking. He exchanged an incredulous look with George, who was also taken aback by the sight.

"Oi!" Fred called out, striding toward the pitch with George and the rest of the Gryffindor team behind him. "What's the meaning of this? Our tryouts are this afternoon!"

Addie glanced over her shoulder at them, her sharp eyes narrowing in an almost predatory fashion. "Funny," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We've got it booked for today, actually. Sorry, but you'll have to find somewhere else to practice."

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, Angelina stepped forward. She was already glaring at Addie, her fists clenched at her sides. "You've got to be kidding me. We've had this booked for weeks."

"Seems there's been a mistake," Addie said, her voice cool and dismissive. She stepped forward, meeting Angelina's gaze with an almost bored expression. "Perhaps your captain needs to learn how to double-check reservations."

Angelina's nostrils flared, her patience clearly wearing thin. "This is ridiculous. You're just trying to mess with us."

Fred could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was doing everything she could to hold back from fully confronting Addie, but Fred wasn't going to let this slide. He had had enough.

"Right, well, we'll see about that," Fred said, his voice sharp with irritation as he walked over to the edge of the pitch and pulled out his wand, ready to make his case in more physical terms if need be. But before he could make a move, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Harry standing there, his face flushed with frustration.

"Let's just—"

"Oi!" Draco Malfoy's voice cut through the air like a whip. He stepped up beside Addie, sneering at Harry and the Gryffindor team. "Did you really think you could just walk in here and claim the pitch like you own it, Potter?"

Harry's face darkened. "We had it booked. This isn't your pitch."

"Well, it seems like it is now," Draco replied, his voice dripping with superiority. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Maybe you should learn your place."

The situation was escalating fast. Fred could feel the air thickening with the fury of both teams, their rivalry turning personal. As if things weren't bad enough already, a cold voice cut through the heated tension.

"Enough," Professor Snape's voice rang out from behind them. He was standing by the edge of the pitch, his dark robes billowing around him like a cloud of shadow. "Slytherins are using the pitch this afternoon. Gryffindor will have to find somewhere else."

Fred's blood boiled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, Snape raised a hand to silence him.

"Not now, Weasley," Snape said coldly, his eyes glinting with that ever-present malice. "You will be informed of an alternate location for your tryouts later."

Fred was seething, his jaw clenched as Snape turned on his heel and made his way back to the Slytherins. Addie gave them a pointed, victorious look, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Fred saw red.

"Come on, let's go," George muttered, pulling Fred away before he could do something he might regret. But Fred couldn't resist turning back for one last remark.

"You should probably enjoy the pitch while you can, Malfoy," he called back, the words sharp as knives. "Might be the last time you get to use it this season."

Addie's gaze flickered with something dangerous in her eyes, but she didn't respond. She just raised her chin, looking down at Fred with that same cold, confident demeanor she always had. Then, just before she turned her back, she threw one last barb their way.

"And you should enjoy your short-lived marriage, Weasley," she said, her voice low and biting. "That's the only thing that'll keep you busy besides this pathetic Quidditch team."

The group froze, the insult hanging in the air like a thick fog. Fred's temper flared again, but before he could reply, George let out a short, sharp laugh.

"Well," George said, smirking, "I feel bad for whoever gets matched with her."

Fred couldn't help but let out a breath of laughter despite the anger still simmering in him.

"Definitely not someone from our house," Fred muttered, glaring at the retreating figure of Addie Malfoy as she made her way back to the Slytherin side of the pitch.

The Gryffindor team turned to leave, tension still hanging thick in the air. But there was one thing Fred couldn't shake—the weight of Addie's words, her cold tone, and that smile that seemed like the calm before a storm. Whoever ended up matched with her, he thought, would be in for more than just a Quidditch rivalry. They were about to enter a war.

The Great Hall was unnervingly silent as the seventh years gathered around the long tables. The usual buzz of chatter and excitement that accompanied the start of a new year had dissipated into an anxious, tight-lipped hush. The entire room was on edge, their eyes glued to the front of the room where Dolores Umbridge stood, her presence commanding, a cruel smile plastered on her face.

She was the one responsible for this absurd marriage law. It had been her idea, her plan, and now it was about to become their reality.

With a deliberate wave of her wand, a golden envelope materialized in front of each student. The enchanted envelopes floated in the air for a moment before gently landing on the table before them. The enchanted gold shimmered in the candlelight, the stark contrast to the darkening mood in the room.

No one moved at first. Fred stared at the envelope in front of him, his eyes flicking over it with a mixture of disbelief and dread. It was beautifully crafted, the gold embossed with the Ministry's seal, but the only thing he could think of was how much he wished it would disappear. Everyone else seemed to be avoiding touching theirs, frozen by the inevitable fate they would have to face.

Then, a series of rustling sounds broke the silence as some students, unable to hold back, ripped their envelopes open with shaking hands. Others, like Fred, simply stared. His fingers twitched, but he didn't want to be the first to open it. His eyes flicked toward George, who, sitting beside him, had already ripped his open with the same haste that had characterized his entire life.

Fred's stomach sank when George's face paled. His brother's usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced with something Fred had never seen before—pure, unfiltered horror.

"Angelina..." George whispered, his voice strained as he stared at the piece of parchment in his hands. His face was pale, his usual mischievous glint replaced by a shock Fred couldn't quite understand. His eyes darted up to Angelina, who sat beside him, her expression mirrored in a mix of fear and disbelief.

Angelina, still processing the chaos of the moment, had just looked over when she caught George's gaze. Her eyes widened, and before she could stop herself, she ripped her own envelope open in a frenzy, her hand shaking as the parchment slipped out. The sound of the paper rustling in her hands was almost deafening in the stillness of the room.

Fred's stomach twisted when he heard the choked sob that escaped from her. Without another word, Angelina clutched the letter to her chest and started crying, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. The room around them seemed to freeze, but all Fred could do was watch her, unsure how to move forward.

Alicia Spinnet, who had been sitting across from the two of them, gasped and threw her arms around Lee Jordan, tears brimming in her eyes. She sobbed into his shoulder, whispering something between her tears that Fred couldn't hear. But it was clear from the way they clung to each other that something had shifted between them.

"I—" Alicia sobbed, her voice thick with emotion, "I got matched with Lee..."

Lee's face softened in an instant, his arms tightening around Alicia. They hadn't been dating, but there had been an unspoken connection between the two for as long as Fred could remember. Now, it seemed like fate had aligned their paths, but there was no time to focus on that. Not now, when everything else felt so wrong.

Fred looked back at Angelina, whose tears had slowed, but there was still an unmistakable sadness in her eyes as she looked at him. Her voice, though quiet, barely broke the silence.

"Fred," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry. I got George."

Fred's breath hitched, the weight of her words sinking deep. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, as though everything had collapsed around him. But before he could respond, he felt his own envelope calling to him, demanding to be opened. It was right there in front of him.

He looked down at the golden envelope, the Ministry seal staring back at him. For a moment, he could hardly bring himself to touch it, but his hand was trembling, and it felt like the envelope was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He ripped it open without hesitation, his fingers shaking as he pulled out the single, folded piece of parchment.

The words on the paper seemed to blur for a second as he tried to read through the haze of shock and confusion. His heart pounded in his chest as he read the first line.

To Mr. Frederick Weasley,

His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel his palms beginning to sweat. He blinked hard, hoping his mind was playing tricks on him. But it wasn't.

The letter continued, reading the words that would change everything:

We are pleased to inform you that, under the terms of the Marriage Law, you have been matched with the following individual:

Adelina Lilith Malfoy.

Fred felt the world fall away from him. The room seemed to spin as his eyes locked on the name, and it was as though the entire weight of the world settled on his shoulders. Addie Malfoy. Adelina.

His throat tightened, and the words on the page seemed to blur before him.

You and your partner will have one year to marry, and a further two years after that to produce a magical heir. It is imperative that you follow these terms in full. The Ministry's decision is final. Failing to follow these guidelines will lead to imprisonment in Azkaban.

Signed,

Cornelius Fudge
Minister of Magic

The name burned into his mind like a branding iron.

Fred stared at the parchment, feeling the weight of it, the finality of it all. He felt dizzy. The voice of Umbridge echoed somewhere in the background, but he didn't hear it. All he could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears as his gaze remained fixed on the letter.

Adelina Lilith Malfoy. The words seemed to echo, mocking him.

Beside him, George was still frozen in shock, and across from him, Angelina's sobs were muffled by the chaos of the room. Fred's own stomach twisted. This was no longer just a matter of following some law—this was his life. This was a nightmare. And now, he had to live it.