Chapter Text
19 March 2000
Groggily, Hermione sat up in her bed. She’d been having a lovely dream, but something had disturbed her sleep. And there it was again, a light tapping coming from her window. With a heavy sigh, she threw back the covers before climbing out of bed to let the unfamiliar owl inside.
After relieving the little creature of the letter it carried, she offered water and an owl treat, but it swooped back out the window without so much as a glance toward her offerings.
Shivering in the chilly morning air, she pulled on her dressing gown. Then, with a yawn, she dropped back onto her bed and broke the wax seal on the official-looking envelope. Scanning for the signature, she immediately felt as though the air was being sucked from the room. Fuck! What now? Why hadn’t she at least made herself a cuppa before opening this? With an audible groan, she read the cryptic missive.
To whom it may concern,
Due to circumstances that have recently come to light, I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, officially request the presence of all unmarried witches and wizards ages seventeen to thirty-five, who are citizens of Wizarding Britain, in the Great Hall at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the second of April at three o’clock in the afternoon. This is a mandatory meeting. If you are unable to attend, please contact my office prior to April the first.
Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister for Magic
Stunned, Hermione simply stared at the letter in her hands wondering what on earth could have happened, and what this was all about. Before she could decide what to do next, a translucent silver weasel floated into her room, stopping just inches from where she sat, and spoke in the calm voice of Arthur Weasley. “Molly is cooking breakfast now. She wants everyone to come here as soon as you can to discuss this morning’s news.”
Well, it was certainly better than driving herself mad, all alone in her flat. She’d planned to spend the day relaxing and reading a new novel, but it’s not as if she would be able to concentrate now anyway. And it had been a few weeks since she’d seen the whole Weasley family.
After a quick shower, Hermione dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a soft blue jumper before flooing over to The Burrow. Upon entering the noisy home, she saw that she was the last to arrive. Fred smiled at her from across the room, gesturing to the only open spot left at the table, which happened to be between the twins.
Not long ago, Hermione would have been hesitant to take that seat, but she’d surprised herself last year by accepting a job offer at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes when she was fed up with the ministry position that she’d thought she’d wanted. Hardly six months in, she’d realised that she hated working for the ministry, and all the bureaucracy that went along with it, and had gone to work with Fred and George instead. Admittedly, she primarily focused on their more serious merchandise lines, but the freedom to research and create what she wanted was a dream come true.
“Now that everyone’s here, Percy, can you tell us what you know?” Arthur spoke from the head of the table. The Weasley patriarch had retired from the ministry at the beginning of the year himself. He’d explained to them all that he was tired after two wars and raising a house full of children, and he wanted to enjoy life with Molly before grandchildren started joining the family.
Percy cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair and adjusting his tie. “I’m afraid that I don’t know very much.” He glanced around the table, making eye contact with each of them in turn. “All I can say with certainty is that there’s been talk of the Wizengamot instating a marriage law.”
“What’s that?” asked Ginny, her tone trepidatious.
With a heavy sigh, Percy answered. “It’s exactly what it sounds like, I’m afraid. A marriage law would require all witches and wizards of a certain age to be married and have children, likely with ministry-approved matches. Apparently, the magical population in Britain is dangerously low, and the birth rate hasn’t increased enough to make up for it. During and after the first war, there were still loads of babies being born. That hasn’t happened this time. ”
Hermione’s mind raced as shocked gasps and curses sounded from around the table. She finally managed to ask, “Can they do that?”
“They can, and they’ve done it before, Hermione,” Percy answered grimly. “The last time a marriage law came about was in the seventeenth century. They matched every witch of childbearing age, and yes, I do mean children who matured early as well, with men who were tested and proven fertile. The spell that they used only took into account how compatible two individuals were in regard to reproduction, so a ten-year-old girl may well have been forced to marry and procreate with a sixty or seventy-year-old man.”
Feeling like she may literally vomit, Hermione looked around at the others and saw the same disgusted looks on every face. Percy pressed on. “The Wizengamot wasn’t proposing that, but they were throwing around the idea of having everyone over seventeen matched. Kingsley stepped in and came up with an alternative. I don’t know what his plan is, but knowing him, he’s done everything that he can to make sure that everyone has a choice in the matter. I think... I think that whatever the plan is, it’s worth hearing him out and showing as much support as we can. The alternative may prove much worse.”
In the few moments of silence that followed, Hermione started to process what she’d learned. An actual marriage law where she wouldn’t have any choice in the matter would be horrid. And, while she didn’t truly feel ready for marriage and children now, she understood that if Kingsley had come up with a solution that would give them autonomy in the matter, some of them would have to marry and have children to make this all go away.
Admittedly, what Percy had said was true, if a little strange. Hermione knew from muggle history that typically following any war, there was a surge in births. Lovers who were separated enjoyed their reunions, which naturally resulted in babies. But that hadn’t happened this time. She pondered why that may be, and the only thing that she could come up with was that so many of them had literally been children when the war started. It had taken over every aspect of their lives as children and then as teens. They hadn’t had an opportunity to enjoy the normal experiences then, so none of them were keen to jump right into having adult responsibilities now.
Ron pointed to Bill and Fleur who were bent over their own letter, as well as the one they had snagged from George, murmuring quietly to each other. “What I can’t work out is why the two of you got one. You’re married already.”
Bill looked up, meeting Ron’s gaze with his lips pressed in a tight line. “I thought it was obvious. You lot will probably be asked to get married, but we’re going to be asked to have babies. Our meeting time is different than yours, and the language is as well. This letter,” he held up George’s, “says, ‘unmarried witches and wizards.’ While ours says, ‘childless married couples.’
“Bloody hell! Married? Fuck! I’m not ready to be married!”
Ron’s exclamation earned him a glare from his mother, but before she could scold him for the language that he’d used at her table, George agreed with him. “Mate, none of us are. Do you think it’s a coincidence that none of us are in serious relationships? Have any of your year mates from school announced engagements, or gotten married, or had babies?”
As George made a show of waiting patiently, Ron shot Hermione and Harry questioning looks. Harry only shrugged while Hermione laughed. She smiled cynically. “I’ll answer for you; it’s none. Not even the Slytherins, who previously would have been paired through an arranged marriage. All of that was dissolved after the war as a way to prevent further generations raised with such intense blood-prejudice.”
“Right you are, Hermione, as usual.” George grinned at her. “And, those new clubs in Diagon Alley are packed every night with people in our age group. Everyone just wants an opportunity to have fun now that old mouldy shorts is gone and his idiot groupies are all in Azkaban.”
After her day with the Weasleys, Hermione had a lot on her mind. Now that she was back in her flat alone for the night, she couldn’t seem to shut her brain off. How on earth was she going to get through the next two weeks? Waiting to find out what was actually going on was going to be awful.
And what was worse was that she’d finally convinced herself to get over the fact that she and Fred worked together and actually respond to his flirty overtures. She wasn’t certain if he actually meant anything by it, but she’d decided to find out by subtly responding to see what he would do, but now... With a sigh, she rolled over and fluffed her pillow, willing sleep to come.