Author's Note: Liked the idea of a Marriage Law, so tried to give it my own take.
Oh, and none of these people are mine…
What Might Have Been
Chapter Five
Hermione's reaction to the scrolls had caught the attention of most of their classmates, and their end of the table was nearly completely silent. She let the third scroll tumble through her fingers, without really noticing it, and began to frantically scrabble for her copy of the Daily Prophet. She found it, yanked it up, knocking over her goblet of pumpkin juice in the process, and began to read, her eyes darting back and forth across the front page.
She appeared not to have heard Harry at all.
"Hermione!" Harry raised his voice a little. "Hermione!" She started noticeably, and looked over the top of the paper at him. "What is going on? What's wrong?"
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione began, her voice a shadow of its usual strident self. "Don't you ever pay attention to the news?" She folded the paper, front page out, and handed it to him.
Ministry Passes First Marriage Law Since 1632, read the banner headline. Ron was leaning across the table, trying to read the headline upside down, and several other Gryffindors were searching for another available copy of the paper. Harry cast a puzzled look at Hermione, not seeing what this particularly had to do with her…
…until he began reading the article.
In a historic move, the Ministry of Magic has passed a hotly contested piece of legislation now known as the Preservation of the Integrity of Wizarding Bloodlines Act. The concern regarding the rise in the number of Squib births, or births of children having weak or nearly nonexistent magical powers, has been mounting in recent years. The intermarriage among Pureblood lines has become suspect.
In an effort to counter this, the Ministry will be overseeing the implementation of mixed marriages. This will involve the marriage of Purebloods with either Half-bloods or those of Muggle descent. These new and hardier strains of magical ability are expected to revitalize the Pureblood lines.
Any Half-blood or Muggle-born witch over the majority age of 17 may be requested in marriage by a Pureblood wizard. She will be allowed to choose from her suitors, but is required by Ministry law to choose one of them. Any Half-blood or Muggle-born wizard will be allowed to marry a Pureblood witch. Under no circumstances will any further Pureblood-Pureblood marriages take place, until the Squib dilemma is judged to be well under control.
The Ministry will be available to enact marriage ceremonies, when they are required. The Ministry will not sanction any Muggle marriage ceremonies.
Further inquiries may be directed to….
Harry did not care who took care of the inquiries. He looked up at Hermione questioningly, handing the paper to Ron, without looking. His eyes suddenly fell on the three scrolls, and he understood.
"Those…" he gulped, gesturing toward the scrolls with one hand, "Those are marriage proposals?"
Hermione nodded, evidently not trusting herself to speak.
"Bloody hell," Ron finally spoke, looking at Hermione with wide eyes. "Really? Who from?"
Hermione spoke in a low, strangled voice that sounded as if she were trying very hard to keep it under control.
"Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Marcus Flint." Both boys gaped at her.
"But - but Mal - Malfoy always called you-" Ron stammered, unable to finish his sentence.
"Doesn't matter," Hermione answered levelly, as evenly as if she were explaining the causes of the Eleventh Goblin Rebellion. "None of them will be permitted a Pureblood marriage, now, and…"
"Hermione's the most powerful and smartest witch at Hogwart's," Harry finished dully, his statement not really sounding like a compliment. Hermione managed a smile at him anyway. "Any Pureblood wizard would want…" He couldn't finish his sentence.
"Miss Granger, would you mind accompanying me to my office?" came the familiar voice of their Headmaster. He gazed at her evenly, giving nothing away, but his eyes drifted significantly to the scrolls in front of her. She swallowed and nodded, looking up at him. Harry and Ron clattered noisily to their feet, but Dumbledore bade them sit back down with a wave of his hand. "I'm sure that Miss Granger will fill you in on everything when our meeting has concluded." Dumbledore led the way out of the Great Hall, followed by several girls, including Hermione, all of whom had received scrolls from the Ministry.
They both sat back down somewhat sulkily, but Harry was almost instantly back on his feet. He ran down the length of Gryffindor table, and banged clumsily out of the double doors.
"Sir!" Harry yelled, panting slightly, "Sir! Professor Dumbledore!" The aged Headmaster turned, and all the girls stopped.
"Yes, Harry?" Harry got the sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore already knew what Harry was going to do, and paused. All the girls were looking at him.
"Um.." Harry cleared his throat nervously. "I'll do it." He glanced at Hermione, and suddenly felt like he was alone in the room with her.
"Do what?" she asked, her forehead crinkling.
"I'll marry you. I'll - if I sent an owl to the Ministry, you - would you --?" Harry flushed, feeling like he wasn't making sense.
Hermione and Dumbledore both smiled at him, a little sadly, Harry thought.
"I'd love to, Harry, but -"
"I'm afraid, Harry," Dumbledore interjected, "that since your mother was Muggle-born, you would not be permitted to marry Miss Granger, especially since she does have Pureblood marriage offers." He sounded apologetic…and a little angry.
"But - but - she can't. They're all - Do you know how they would treat - ?" Harry sputtered, feeling bereft. He had not stopped to think what this would mean to his and Hermione's fledgling relationship…the fact that they could not marry, even if they were so inclined…the fact that someone else would…Harry grimaced, as if in pain. That didn't even bear thinking about.
He was at her side in three quick strides, taking both of her hands in his.
"Hermione, you know I - " She cupped his cheek with one hand, and they were once again oblivious to the onlookers in the hall.
"I know," she said softly.
"What are you going to - ?"
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will come up with something," she glanced up at the Headmaster briefly, with shining eyes.
"As much as the faith you place in me means to me, Hermione," Dumbledore said, "I'm afraid there's not a lot I can do. The only leeway we have is that the selections themselves are not being controlled by the Ministry. You are all permitted to select your husbands from the available offers." Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore gave him a significant look, as he was saying this, but couldn't fathom what the Headmaster was trying to tell him. "Ladies, if you please," he continued, gesturing toward his office.
Harry realized that he was still holding Hermione's hands. He brushed a tender kiss across her lips, heedless of the others. "We'll think of something, Hermione, I promise." She smiled at him again, silently thanking him for his concern, and disappeared down the corridor with the other girls.
Harry walked back into the Great Hall, where Ron was eating mechanically, as if his mind were not really on the kippers and eggs that he was shoving in his mouth. Harry sat heavily in his seat, looking glum.
"Wha's going on?" Ron asked, swallowing the gigantic mouthful of food.
"Hermione's got to be married," Harry said. "I offered, but Dumbledore said no." Ron boggled at this.
"You -- you offered to marry Hermione?"
"Well, it'd be a sight better than her marrying Malfoy, wouldn't it?" Harry said defensively, feeling a twinge of guilt that they hadn't yet told Ron what was going on between them.
"Well, why can't you then?" Ron said, and there was a funny tone to his voice. "Your mum and dad were both magical."
"Mum was Muggle-born," Harry said, twiddling his spoon around in his porridge, with a sigh, "If Hermione has Pureblood proposals, she's got to take one of them."
They were both silent for several moments, each lost in his own thoughts.
Presently, Ron said, "Well, Zabini's not so bad, is he? He is a Slytherin, but he's definitely not as big a git as Malfoy or Flint."
Harry said nothing. His mind kept drifting to Hermione's dreamy smile this morning, and her lips on his. He was losing something infinitely precious, and all because the blasted Purebloods kept marrying their cousins.
The first thing he saw when he stepped out of the hospital room that had been his home for three weeks was Hermione's beaming face. Her eyes were shiny with tears and her cheeks were pink, and he thought absently that she was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.
"Congratulations, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "Good to be getting out of this place, huh?"
Harry smiled, still stepping gingerly. "Wish I'd a better place to go home to than Little Whinging," he said ruefully, though his smile did not fully vanish. Not even the Dursleys could ruin this day for him.
Hermione laughed, and it sounded like music.
"Why ever would you go back there?" she asked.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped. Why would he go back there? He was of age. Voldemort was dead. He never had to go back to Privet Drive again.
Hermione and Ron watched him, grinning foolishly, as he realized his newfound freedom.
"But where will I - ?" he began, but Ron cut him off.
"Dad's already taken your stuff to the Burrow…as if you even had to ask!" Harry could not quell a grin. The Weasleys were his family in every way that mattered.
The rest of the summer had been an odd juxtaposition of complete peace and brooding anxiety. Finally, before his birthday, listless and jumpy, Harry had left the Burrow to wander around Europe.
He had returned just in time for the start of term at Hogwart's.
There was no opportunity to speak with Hermione during their classes, although she showed up only a few minutes late to Transfiguration. She answered questions and studiously took notes, but Harry could see something lurking behind her eyes. There were some murmurs from other students, but Hermione appeared to ignore them.
"So…Hermione," Draco Malfoy leaned down on her desk before the start of Potions. Her name sounded odd and foreign on his lips. "Come to a decision yet?" Hermione glared at him, but said nothing. Harry found his fingertips winding around his wand, just in case. "There isn't a witch in England who wouldn't want the title and privileges associated with being Mrs. Malfoy." There was insinuation in his tone that made the word `privileges' sound dirty.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said firmly. Draco appeared to notice for the first time that Harry was even there.
"Oh, yes, Potter. Heard about your little impassioned proposal this morning," he smirked, as if it were exceedingly amusing. "It's a shame that your mother was a Mudblood - " He had barely spoken the offensive word, when Harry pushed back his chair with a screeching scrape, and stood.
Hermione laid one soft hand over his.
"I wouldn't marry you if you were the last wizard on Earth, and Merlin himself was officiating," Hermione said vehemently.
"That can be arranged!" Draco said in a low hiss.
Harry made an involuntary move towards Malfoy, but Professor Snape entered the room just then, and Malfoy had to settle for parting with a sneer. Harry sat back down reluctantly, but Hermione's hand remained on his for a moment longer.
She did not speak much the rest of the day, and Harry knew that she was worried over the validity of Malfoy's threat. He and Ron discussed that evening, up in the dormitory, and Harry could see that Ron was concerned as well. The redhead appeared preoccupied, and did not add much to the conversation, looking deep in thought.
The next morning, an owl brought Hermione two scrolls and an official letter from the Ministry on heavy parchment. Hermione read them all, and shuddered, looking positively grey.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked her, putting one arm around her tenderly. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Malfoy staring over at them with a triumphant leer.
Hermione spoke in a wooden voice, "Flint and Zabini have withdrawn their offers."
TBC
Please please review. I'd really appreciate it.
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