Inhaling the sweet, intoxicating aroma of old parchment and leather-bound books coming from inside, Hermione placed her right foot onto the entrance of Hogwarts' ancient, marvelous library. The cherished scent reached into her chest, kindly caressing her intelligent heart.
"I just love the smell of knowledge in the morning," she murmured to herself, a content smile pulling on her pink lips at the prospect of feeding her eyes and mind a million words scattered on millions of pages.
As her left foot was joining her right, encouraging her progression inside her heavenly nook, she was yanked back by her elbow, causing Hermione to let out an outraged, wounded roar.
"Oh, no you don't," huffed Ginny with her ever-constant expression of thou-shalt-not-cross-me. "Not this year. No way."
"Wait!" cried the older girl, attempting to sink her nails into anything that would force Ginny to stop dragging her further away from the library doors. "Madam Pince added a new Ancient Runes section this year! Ginny, please!"
Ginny snorted at her friend, continuing on effortlessly carrying her away. "Honestly, quit being a drama queen. The books aren't going anywhere. Or have you forgotten you're the only bloody person in this entire castle who actually reads? Well, aside from those overachieving, snotty Ravenclaws. But even they're not dense enough to cross you."
In order to retain the last shred of dignity Ginny had not taken from her, Hermione gave up on trying to free herself from her friend's impressively strong grasp. While being on the run for the last year had provided her with a lean, toned figure in order to escape being killed by Snatchers and Death Eaters, the defeat of Voldemort had brought on an extra ten pounds of happy, post-traumatic weight gain (all right, twelve glorious pounds consisting of bountiful Sunday roasts and chocolate cakes). As unbothered and confident as she was in the added weight, Hermione's physical strength could hardly compare to Ginny's. While she spent the entire summer sleeping, eating, and vacationing with her parents (memories completely restored, including very furious sentiments on her going to such lengths to protect them), Ginny had spent her holiday rigorously training for Quidditch. If the redhead could take bludgers and still fly high, Hermione had no chance of ever stopping her from pulling on her like she was a rag doll.
As Hermione was making a mental-note on memorizing Ginny's schedule in order to avoid her in the future, she felt her slow down. They had arrived at the Great Hall where a very angry, impatient Ron waited for them by the entrance.
"Took you long enough," he scoffed.
Ginny narrowed blue eyes at her brother. "Oi, you're the one who said to check the Transfiguration classroom. I told you she'd be at the library."
Hermione frowned at both Weasley siblings, crossing her arms over her chest once Ginny had released her from her tight grip. "Honestly, you two don't have any respect for my education. Need I remind you if it wasn't for my brains and those books you make fun of, there are several subjects you two would have failed. Not to mention, you're alive because I—"
"All right. All right," Ron interrupted with another scoff. "We get it. Let's get a move on. I'm starving and there are twice as many Gryffindors this year than ever before."
While Hermione started reminding Ron that it would not matter if the entire castle was sorted into Gryffindor, there will always be enough food to feed even his bottomless appetite, Ginny held on to her glare. She removed it from the back of her brother's head (where she was silently judging how long his messy red hair was getting) to stare down every new person with a ruby and gold tie around their necks.
It was not that she was not somewhat elated their house was growing with true, courageous souls, but where was all of that bravery when the world needed it? When Harry needed it? And it was not just these new Gryffindors, but all the people outside the walls of the castle proclaiming fidelity to Harry and the Order of the Phoenix, promising to fight and protect the rights of every citizen of their Wizarding World. Where the hell was that loyalty and blatant bravery when Voldemort was murdering anyone who could not provide a Pureblood family tree? Where was all that love and respect for their fellow witch and wizard when Death Eaters were enslaving them? Where was all that awe for Harry when no one believed him a war was coming?
"Like you really know about war," Ron looked over his shoulder, making Ginny aware that she had not been silently thinking these things to herself, but rather had voiced them to her brother and Hermione. "You weren't there for half of the shit we went through. Only we know what it was like not to have allies, to be living in forests, cold and—"
"I don't know what it's like? Me?" Ginny demanded, her pale, freckled cheeks growing red. "Me who was possessed by Voldemort?"
Hermione wedged herself between the siblings, hoping Ginny would not launch herself to beat Ron with her fists until his white skin was a few shades of blue and green. "Please," she said carefully to both before fixing her worried, brown eyes on Ron, "let's just eat before classes start."
Ron looked down at where Hermione had placed her hand on his chest. He took a shaky, deep breath before pushing her touch away. He turned back to the Gryffindor table, yanking a plate full of his favorite breakfast foods and stole silverware from an unsuspecting girl nearest to him. He dropped himself down in an open space, also aggressively reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice that splashed as he did.
Knowing better than to comment further on the matter, Hermione sat beside her best friend with only a tiny, sympathetic smile aimed at Ginny.
She understood where Ginny was coming from, of course. The girl had been in love with Harry Potter the moment her eyes first spotted him at King's Cross Station—before he ever became the Savior, the Chosen One. Long before he became one of the strongest wizards alive. Of course Ginny loathed how everyone had turned their backs on him, unwilling to accept the concrete evidence that Voldemort had come back from the dead, raising his army of Death Eaters and monstrous fanatics to kill on his command. She would never forgive the world for leaving him defenseless, for letting him lose so much before they lost, too.
She would never forgive the world for forcing a boy to become a man in order to save them.
"And where have you been?" Ron demanded with a mouth full of scrambled eggs when Harry approached the Gryffindor table.
Harry grinned at the pieces of food Hermione was disgustingly brushing from her shoulder, yelling at Ron to close his mouth. "McGonagall summoned me," he told his friends before pressing a light kiss on Ginny's forehead, wrapping an arm warmly around her waist. "Just wanted to make sure I was sure I wanted to be here. She said she'd allow me to return next year in case I need more than a few months to...y'know, recover."
"Doesn't McGonagall know Mum had this conversation with you before we boarded the Hogwarts Express?"
Harry shrugged at Ron's comment. "She worries. That's all."
At the awkward, tensed silence that was forming around them—the one that had been following them around every time they were together, the one that was intent on reminding them the war they had won had left them with different kind of scars—Hermione cleared her throat, forcing a big smile on her face.
"This year is going to be great, isn't it? Absolutely boring."
Harry offered her a chuckle. "Is that a good thing, 'Mione?"
"Considering you three have never had just a boring year," Ginny chimed in with a grin, "I'd say yeah, boring is good. Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade trips."
"And studying," Hermione stressed, brows knitting. "This is our last year. We have to graduate with exceptional N.E.W.T.s if we even want a chance to get into a respectable university, let alone qualify for respectable jobs."
"There's nothing boring about Death Eaters, is there?" Harry, Hermione, and Ginny stilled at Ron's cutting words. All three of them twitched to reach for their wands as an instinct before they followed his line of sight.
Passing the familiar faces of their surviving friends, Padma Patil flirting with a handsome, shy Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at whatever story they were sharing, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown whispering into each others ears, looking over at a group of grinning Hufflepuff boys, was the Slytherin table.
"Parkinson. Nott. Zabini. Goyle. Malfoy—"
"Enough, Ron," Harry interjected sharply at the disgust in his best friend's voice. It was not like he did not know Ron had every right to absolutely hate that specific Slytherin gang, considering they had never been in friendly nor neutral terms with them (even before the war), Harry did not want to add to the already present animosity. Not this year. Not after everything they had lived through. Petty rivalry was not on the list of things he wanted to do in his Seventh Year.
"No stupid feuds this year, all right?" he said to Ron (and to the other nosy Gryffindors listening in, too). "If we stay out of their way, they will stay out of ours. We will pretend Slytherin House doesn't even exist. Got it?"
"Harry's right," Ginny agreed as she reached for her boyfriend's hand, running a thumb over his knuckles. "You know I've never shied away from kicking arse, but it isn't worth it. We've gone through enough—they've gone through enough, too."
Only Hermione saw Ginny's attempt at reassurance going wrong. Soon as the last word left her mouth, Ron's red fury took over him again.
"What the hell do you mean they've gone through enough? Am I supposed to be sympathetic to a war they started in the bloody first place?" His voice carried, drawing more attention from their fellow house-mates and from classmates in other tables. "Did we not lose people because of them?"
While she often met her brother's ire with a much more cutting one from herself, this time there was more than anger on Ginny's face. There was outrage, incredulity, guilt, but unmovable heartbreak, too.
Ginny swallowed, her hand in Harry's shaking before her voice came out low and deep. "We all lost people because of Voldemort. We didn't win this war to rebuild with hate. They have suffered just as we have."
"Suffered?" Ron returned just as dangerously. "What do they know of suffering when we lost Fred, Ginny? Fred—our brother." Tears welled up in his blue eyes but they never fell. "When we lost Mad-Eye, Tonks, Lupin, Sirius....?"
This was the first time Hermione had ever seen Ron render Ginny speechless.
As the argument between the Weasley siblings had now become public for the rest of the Great Hall to witness, Hermione was grateful for the clanking of a fork against a goblet, the sound demanding focus at the front.
Headmistress McGonagall stood tall and regal before the golden owl podium, her half-moon spectacles resting at the tip of her nose, eyes narrowing through them as she observed the gathered student population before her.
Once there was silence, her voice rung: "Although it is the first day back, I would like to remind all of you to start organizing your time efficiently this year in order to make it a successful one. It is your responsibility to finish assignments by their deadlines. No professor is required to give you extensions because you were occupying yourself with unnecessary rule-breaking."
"There goes my plan," Seamus said with a loud laugh, causing a few others to join in. "I was planning on chasing skirts past curfew hours."
Seamus winked at a few smiling witches. Hermione caught Lavender's furious gaze before she chucked a spoon at his face, causing him to let out a yelp.
"On behalf of our faculty and staff, I would like to extend a warm welcome to all returning Seventh Years. We are proud of your choice to finish your schooling in order to prepare for the future," said McGonagall with a tight smile and an apprehensive glint now shining in her dark eyes as she surveyed the Great Hall. It took a long silent pause for Hermione to comprehend that the professor was looking for the students who will never roam the castle's halls again. With such somberness, the Headmistress added, "As you look on to your futures, remember all we lost and gained in this past year. Remember to grieve and heal, but above all to forgive. Now more than ever we encourage unity between all four noble Houses. After all, we did not survive this war to let a petty rivalry get the best of us."
Ron grunted a curse word under his breath — that's where Harry got his speech from, then.
A few neighboring Gryffindors caught his sentiment and nodded in agreement. After all, there is one thing the Houses knew, and that was pettiness.
"We need all Sixth and Seventh Years to stay in their seats for an important announcement," McGonagall spoke again, her old, knowing face erasing all feeling into a mask of indifference. "The rest of you, have a good first day back. Off you go."
The younger students rose from their seats, bewildered at their dismissal and curious as to why it was happening. Their voices got louder as Filch practically prodded them out, slamming close the doors of the Great Hall behind them. The old caretaker snickered to himself as McGonagall pointed her wand at the entrance to cast a Silencing Charm.
"What's this about, Professor?" Neville asked.
McGonagall stared at him for a moment: long gone was that pudgy, frightened boy who tripped over his own robes and often sported a bloodied nose from being bullied by other crueler kids. In his place stood a brave young man who helped change the tide in the war against Voldemort.
While she sometimes doubted Neville Longbottom's ability to not let himself be terrified of his own shadow, the Headmistress always knew he had the makings of a hero inside of him. She had only wished it had not taken loss, blood, and horror to make him so.
"There was an urgent meeting early this morning between the Minister of Magic and the members of the Wizengamot. It seems the council has come—"
"It's true then," Pansy Parkinson abruptly (stupidly) stood from her seat, making every Slytherin around her cringe at her voice ringing in the air. "They are confiscating our wands, then. My father told me they would. He told me the Ministry would take wands from innocent children! Well, I will not hand it over, you hear me? I will not!"
Closest to the raving Slytherin witch, Draco Malfoy reached over and harshly yanked Pansy back down to her seat. He leaned a centimeter closer to her, his white teeth showing as he muttered something inaudible to every other soul. Pansy's pouting lips and terrified eyes were evidence enough that whatever he had said, it was not nice. Still, it had done the job of rendering her silent.
Hermione noticed how a few Slytherins gave up their royal postures to slouch in their seats, trying to hide from all the unwanted attention they were now receiving. While she was not as optimistic as some of her other friends that their fellow classmates were mature enough to not squabble with other Houses all term long, she did wholly believe they would be seeing and hearing less of the Slytherins for the same reasons they clearly wanted to beat Parkinson down for making a scene.
"Since the Minister's admittance to office, the Heads of every department and council have been attempting to pass a law to deal with the aftermath of the war. While most of these meetings have only previously been purely deliberation, as of this morning, their proposition became an instituted law," McGonagall said over all the rising, skeptical voices. She allowed them to continue for a moment before she concluded with, "Our Minister is here to explain what this means to you."
From the furthest corner of the staff table, Kingsley made himself known. He stood tall, dark, and powerful, walking with heavy footsteps to the Headmistress' side. His regal presence began to quiet the voices from inside the Great Hall.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione instantly looked at each other. Confusion was present in all three of their faces. None of them had even seen him sitting among the other professors.
"It must be serious," Ginny whispered to the three best friends. "There's no way Kingsley would have come all this way to Hogwarts to discuss some new reconstruction law."
Before any comment could be given to her own, Kingsley's voice rung low and deep through his audience: "As you all know, this war has not only caused irreversible damage within private, individualistic units, but also in our community as a whole. Our infrastructures are forty-seven percent decimated, with reconstruction still underway. Rebuilding will be affecting the country's economy, as well. Our specialists are hoping it will not lead us to a recession. Still," the Minister paused, turning dark, collected eyes in Harry's direction, "what frightens the Ministry the most is the loss of lives this war has brought. Our population has been reduced by fifty-three percent."
Almost all of the students lowered their heads at the Minister's words. Whether it was due out of respect, mourning, our shame, the sentiment thickened in the air.
Hermione squirmed in her seat, her brain igniting. She knew facts, laws, consequences, and politics. As Ginny had said, there had to be a reason why Kingsley came to Hogwarts to explain this new, unknown law to a group of students who tittered legal adulthood or were already there.
"This loss will take a toll on our magic, will it not?" Hermione spoke with her arm still raised in the air.
For a fleeting second, Kingsley smiled at her in a way she remembered from Order meetings and family gatherings. He was admiring her intelligence and perceptiveness. But unlike those other moments when he would retain that smile and comment on how bright her future looked, Kingsley replaced it with a cold, narrowed gaze.
"Experts calculate a sprout of Squibs within the next three to five years. Of course, this Minister values Squibs and other contributing members of our community outside of the wizard and witch line, but if the reproduction of this continues, our numbers are set to decline in its progression. The Wizengamot will not have this. They want to strike now to assure our magical inheritance continues to thrive as we rebuild our world into a new, tolerant place," said Kingsley as he conjured a scroll in sparks of gold magic. He opened it, and in his best, affirmative voice he declared, "As of this morning, the Ministry has passed the Restoration and Magical Retention Act. Under this law, all wizards and witches from the ages of sixteen to twenty-four are required to marry within the next year. No exceptions."
Ginny had been sipping on pumpkin juice as Kingsley spoke. When she processed his words, she started choking on the drink, coughing wildly just as an uproar took over the Great Hall.
"Are you mad?" Ron bellowed.
"You can't do this!" Seamus echoed, standing from his seat.
"The Ministry's lost it!" Pansy's voice rung out from the Slytherin table again.
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Hannah Abbott screamed.
"How dare you pass such an archaic law?" Hermione demanded, loud and furious. "You were supposed to revolutionize the Ministry, Kingsley! What were you thinking?"
"They weren't thinking!" Ginny rose from her seat, her cheeks matching the furious color of her hair. "If they actually were, they wouldn't have passed this marriage law! Don't even try to deny that this proposition isn't exactly that!"
Harry stood from his place, too. Instead of reacting in the same way Ginny and his classmates were doing, he put an arm around her shoulder. He had never been the type to think first and then act, but being with Ginny had taught him to listen first. She was made of fire—she would burn everything to the ground for what she believed to be right. And while Harry will always jump into the flames for her, he still pulled her back down to her seat.
Her bright, blue eyes were absolutely terrified. It brought back flashes of a war from only a few months ago; it was the fear of having to lose him. Except, this time it wasn't a fight to the death, it was a law that might force Harry from Ginny.
Built as austere as he was, Kingsley managed to present a calmer side to himself post war. Even though there was not much to laugh about these days, he was seen sharing a smile with Bill or Charlie, or singing a foreign ballad along with Fleur, or grinning at Hermione's organizational instructions to others. But he was just Kinglsey then, surrounded by Order members who were considered more like family. In front of the Hogwarts student body, he was Minister.
If Harry, Ron, Hermione, or Ginny wanted a detailed, remorseful explanation as to what was happening, they were not going to get one.
"By the means of the Sorting Hat," the Minister's voice was heard again, loud, deep, and unaffected by the uproar, "the Ministry will assign you marital partners. You are to be back in the Great Hall tomorrow morning at eight. No exceptions."
"That will be it for now," McGonagall said after Kingsley. "Proceed to your lessons. But be advised: no word of this law shall be given to younger students. Not until it is presented to the community by the end of this week."
"Do something, Potter!" Someone screamed from among the blur of students heckling the adults. "You're the Chosen One!"
Ginny glared, spinning, trying to find who had said that.
"Merlin," Dean breathed, crinkling his nose as he approached his growing circle of frantic friends, "I hate to pull that card, mate, but do you have that sort of power here? I mean, the Ministry owes you big time for the whole Dark Lord thing."
"Lessons?" Ron interrupted before Harry could even open his mouth. "Has that bloody woman lost her mind? How can we possibly concentrate now knowing tomorrow morning our lives are going to end!"
Neville put a hand on his shoulder, frowning. "This cannot be happening. I was just getting the nerve to ask Hannah out."
Seamus and Dean scoffed in disbelief at that, but did not comment on it. Instead they watched Harry struggling to pull Ginny out of the Great Hall before she cursed or punched someone (anyone at this point).
Hermione could barely find her own composure, especially when Padma threw herself at her, crying from outrage while her twin Pavarti seemed extremely less bothered.
"What if it's a Gryffindor?" Theodore Nott was heard by the group of Gryffindor friends. He was directing the angry, loud words to a group of his infamous house-mates. "I knew I shouldn't have come back this year. I fucking knew it."
Pansy shoved him back a few steps, giving herself space to maneuver out from the background of troubled bodies. "Did you not hear the Minister, Theo? This law pertains to everyone within our age group. We are all fucked. Salazar," she paused with a dramatic cry, her fingers moving to clutch an emerald necklace around her throat, "arranged marriages were not a thing I was looking forward to at all."
"Yeah," scoffed Blaise Zabini with a growing smirk, "because you know Malfoy was in talks of being betrothed to Astoria Greengrass and your potentials were all some sort of incest-bred purebloods."
Pansy's fellow Slytherins snickered darkly at her facial expression.
"Don't worry, Pans," said Tracey Davies with a glint in her eye that did not match the sympathetic tone of her voice, "maybe the Sorting Hat will pull out a nice Hufflepuff for you."
Pansy reached over, taking Tracey's glasses from on top of her nose. This made the others howl even louder, rushing off to follow her when she led Tracey in a race to get them back.
"I doubt it'll be easy to ignore Slytherin House," Ron turned to his own friends, but narrowing his eyes at Harry, "when we'll be married to them!"
Harry returned his best friend's angry expression with an annoyed one. "What are the chances of that actually happening?"
"Statistically, about—"
"Hermione," groaned Harry and Ginny together, shaking their heads to stop her from further giving Ron fuel to complain.
"Ronald asked a question," Hermione input despite Ginny pushing her brother around the corner, the others following, "and the answer is based on facts, not wishes. Listen, I know you can sway the Sorting Hat, but that within itself is not statistically proven to happen as often as we'd like to—Oh! Merlin, I'm so sorry!"
In the process of swinging her heavy book bag over her shoulder, Hermione had accidentally smacked someone with it. The person fell, and she was apologizing as she extended a hand out in assistance, but she froze mid-way when her warm, brown eyes fell in a pool of cool silver.
Draco Malfoy stared at her hand for a moment before pulling himself up from the ground. His nose crinkled in the way it always did when Hermione was near his proximity. She was expecting an insult, a shove, anything malicious from his part that told her the boy from her past was still there, eager to make her life miserable, but nothing came out of his red lips.
Instead, he handed her bag to her (albeit a little harshly) and turned the corner.
"You all right, 'Mione?" Ginny asked as she reappeared, her left brow up. "Just saw Malfoy slithering away."
"Yeah," Hermione said. "Perfectly fine."
"There's really no way we'd end up with Slytherins, right?" Ginny questioned her, both walking in the direction everyone had taken for their Charms lesson. "Because I'd pity anyone that ends up marrying Malfoy."