Marriage Law

The Law ch1

Chapter One – Hermione's POV

The parchment in my hands crackled as I unfolded it for the third time, my eyes scanning each bold line as if reading them again might somehow make them less absurd.

All witches and wizards between the ages of seventeen and thirty-five are required to marry within the next six months and conceive a child within one year, effective tomorrow. Couples must have a minimum of three children by their sixth wedding anniversary.

The rest was just as unsettling—aptitude tests, "soulmate matches" determined by Ministry officials, mandatory attendance at the Ministry tomorrow morning. Those already married or engaged before last week would be exempt, but anyone else, even those in relationships, would be tested and paired according to the Ministry's judgment. Noncompliance meant Azkaban.

They'd even ended with a cheery send-off: We wish you all the best for a long and happy life with your future spouse and children.

I wanted to laugh, but my stomach had knotted far too tightly for that.

I understood why they were doing this. The war had left the wizarding population devastated—families gone, entire bloodlines lost. But forcing people into marriage and parenthood wasn't a solution; it was control dressed up as "rebuilding." The idea that some enchanted test could decide my "perfect match" was ridiculous.

Worse, there was the lingering fear of who they might decide my "soulmate" was. Malfoy? One of his old gang? The thought made my skin crawl.

I was nineteen—barely an adult. My plans had nothing to do with marriage or children. I wanted to travel, work in magical law, maybe join a research division at the Ministry. I'd just completed my final year at Hogwarts, finally earning my NEWTs after going back with other war-affected students. This was supposed to be the start of my life.

Instead, it felt like the Ministry was about to write it for me.

Pushing the parchment aside, I stood abruptly. The walls of the Burrow felt closer than usual, its warm, homey smell of woodsmoke and bread suddenly claustrophobic. I needed to hear what others thought—maybe I wasn't alone in my outrage.

I padded down the stairs, my socked feet silent against the worn wood. Halfway down, I nearly bumped into a tall figure stepping out of the loo.

"Oh! Sorry, Fred—I didn't see you there," I said, sidestepping quickly.

Fred froze mid-step, one brow lifting. "Wait. How did you know I was Fred? No one ever gets it right—half the time Mum still calls me George."

I gave him a small, knowing smile. "Your smile curves to the left. George's doesn't."

His grin widened, eyes bright with something between amusement and admiration. "Clever witch."

I brushed past him with a small huff of a laugh. "I've had years of practice."

As I reached the bottom step, voices from the sitting room carried through the hall—familiar ones, tinged with excitement. I slowed, not intending to eavesdrop but unable to help hearing my own name.

"...so of course we'll be paired," Ron was saying, his tone confident, almost smug. "We've known each other forever, and we fought together in the war. The test's going to see all that. I mean, it'd be mental for them to put her with someone else."

Ginny's voice joined in, equally certain. "Exactly. And Harry and I? We're obvious. The Ministry would be daft not to match us. I can just imagine it now—'Lady Potter.' It sounds right, doesn't it?"

They both laughed, the sound full of easy certainty, like they were discussing the weather.

My stomach twisted. Ron still thought I was the girl he'd end up with—still assuming the years of friendship, near-romance, and shared danger meant we were inevitable. Ginny's belief about Harry was equally unshakable. Neither of them seemed to consider the possibility that the Ministry's decision might not care about their feelings.

I stepped back into the shadows of the hallway before they could spot me, my pulse quickening. Their confidence was almost worse than my fear—it made this all feel like a game they thought they'd already won.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was drying dishes with a tea towel slung over her shoulder. She looked up and gave me a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, Hermione, dear. Have you read the notice?"

"Yes," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. "I don't understand how they can possibly enforce something like this."

Her sigh was deep and weary. "It isn't right, I know. But after everything... there's little appetite for another fight. People just want stability, and the Ministry is promising that—however foolishly."

I bit my lip, glancing down at my hands. "But pairing people like this—forcing them—it's not stability. It's... it's just another kind of chaos."

She didn't disagree, but she didn't argue either. I suspected she was thinking of her own children—of Ron and Ginny, both likely to be caught in this just as much as I was.

The letter lay folded in my pocket, heavy as lead. Tomorrow, I would walk into the Ministry and take their so-called "soulmate" test. But I couldn't help the stubborn thought rising in me, hot and defiant:

If they thought they could dictate the rest of my life, they were in for a fight.