The Replenishment Decree

It wasn’t typical for Harry Potter, war hero, to begin his day by spitting coffee across his breakfast table but that’s exactly what happened on the first of September when he sat down to read the morning paper. Following the routine that had become one of his favorite parts of the day in the months since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry awoke early to enjoy the quiet before his best friend - and roommate - got up to join him. He checked for any overnight owlpost deliveries, collected The Daily Prophet from the doorstep while noting the absence of The Quibbler, and poured himself a nice, hot cuppa.
When he unrolled the Prophet, the front page article was such a shock his mouthful of coffee sprayed across it - and the table - before he could stop his sputtering!
The headline read “Replenishment Decree” and was followed by the question “A Ministry Euphemism for Arranged Marriage or An Effort to Save Britain’s Wizarding Population?”
He read the article quickly grasping that the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had somehow gotten a Decree passed that allowed them to execute a Marriage Law. Witches and Wizards who were of legal age and had finished their schooling would be made to marry within the year. Not even the next twelve months but before the New Year! Towards the end of the article, Harry saw they had listed some of the selected pairs and his own name was in the paper, along with Ron and Hermione. He was going to be made to marry Padma Patil. He just could NOT wrap his head around that. He was now engaged to Padma. A lovely young woman, certainly, but not one who he had ever thought of marrying! Ron and Hermione were assigned to one another, with an anonymous quote that they “had been seen snogging during the Battle of Hogwarts so it was thoughtful of the Ministry to allow them to stay together.” When he finished with the Prophet’s article he reached for the Quibbler where he knew he would find the real background on the latest Decree. Only then he remembered there had been no Quibbler on the stoop that morning and he now had his suspicions as to why. Though the war had ended, it was taking longer than expected to rout out all of Voldemort’s supporters and the leftovers had been occasionally successful in disrupting both the Quibbler and the Ministry’s attempts to find them.
Just then, he heard footfalls coming down the stairs. This isn’t going to go well.
“Seen The Prophet today, Hermione?” Harry asked gently. He knew she hadn’t. If Hermione had already seen the front page article, no doubt they’d have heard her shouting about it all the way to Diagon Alley.
“No...why? Is it Skeeter? What has that woman written about us now?” She hummed quietly when Harry shook his head. “The Ministry then. What have they done this time? Fools, the lot of them.” She reached out, expecting Harry to drop the newspaper in her hand. When he didn’t, Hermione grew more serious. “Okay, Harry, you’re making me nervous. What is it?”
He took a deep breath before reminding Hermione that they’d been expecting something like this Decree from the Ministry of Magic for a few weeks. That they knew with the amount of deaths from the war there would be holdovers who tried to fall back on old-fashioned and antiquated customs.
“Merlin’s pants, Harry, just tell me already!”
He silently stood from their shared breakfast table and handed her The Daily Prophet on his way to rinse his cup out in the sink.
“What the bloody hell is this?!” She shouted as she read the headline. Skimming the article, Hermione kept up with a nearly constant stream of comments, “like hell...you’ll assign me a husband over my dead body...elder members of the Wizengamot, my ass, just call them ancient toads...No! No, no, no, no, no! They can not force me to marry him! This can’t be legal! Harry! Get dressed! We’re going to the Ministry! Now!”

Harry knew better than to argue with Hermione when she was shouting like that so he went right upstairs and got ready to leave as quickly as he could. Just minutes later, waiting for Hermione by the front door, Harry wondered what the plan really was. Hermione was a planner, she didn’t usually rush into a confrontation without thinking through every angle first. Just as she started coming down the stairs to leave, there was a knock on the door followed by the handle turning immediately. Out of instinct, Harry stepped back and raised his wand.
“Oi, mate! It’s just me,” Ron said, raising his hands defensively.
“Ron, how many times have we told you not to just walk right in? We only finished fighting a war a few months ago; that isn’t safe,” Harry explained.
“Harry, just hex him next time, maybe he’ll learn his lesson!”
“Hey! It’s me, though! You’re both welcome to walk right in the Burrow without ringing the bell.”
Rolling her eyes, Hermione answered, “Yes, Ron, but you have perimeter warnings round the Burrow and we live in Muggle London. You. Can’t. Just. Walk. In. Next time, we hex you.”
“Hex me! And here I came over to celebrate our engagement! That’s just mean, Hermione.” Ron smiled and reached to put his arm around her.
Standing behind Hermione, Harry shook his head at Ron, trying to silently tell him to be quiet.
“Engagement? Engagement! We are not engaged!”
Ron pulled a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet out of his back pocket and opened it to the section of the article that listed them as betrothed. “According to The Prophet we are!”
“Yes, Ronald, and last week The Prophet printed an article claiming that I was pregnant with Harry’s child. Clearly stellar reporting from that lot.”
“Yeah, but, c’mon, ‘Mione, this time it could be true. We make a great couple, Mum says it every day.”
Mouth gaping open as her face reddened, Hermione couldn’t even formulate a response. Harry stepped in, “Uh, Ron, mate, listen, Hermione and I...well, we don’t agree with this marriage thing from the Ministry. We were on our way there to dispute it, actually.”
Insulted, Ron crossed his arms and asked, “Dispute it? As in tell the Ministry of Magic that you just won’t follow a law?”
“That’s right,” Hermione said as she stepped passed Ron toward the door, “I won’t. Nor should you. Ron, we’ve been friends for years but we’re not a couple. No one should be making us get married. And there is no way in hell that I’m going to stand by and let some hundred and fifty year old man tell me I have to get pregnant, thank you very much.”
Harry gently led Ron into the kitchen while subtly waving Hermione out the door.
“Harry, I just don’t understand any of this. I helped win the war. I’m part of the Golden Trio, too. I was a prefect and I made the Gryffindor Quidditch team! Why wouldn’t Hermione want to marry me? I’m a pure-blood from a proper family! I mean, isn’t that why you want to marry my sister?”
Having heard Ron’s last statement, Hermione couldn’t simply leave and she stomped her way into the kitchen behind the other two. Whipping up her sleeve, Hermione displayed the ugly, red, cursed scar on her arm in front of Ron’s face. “Yes, Ron, you’re a pure-blood. Isn’t that brilliant? And me? I’m just a filthy, little mudblood right? I should be blessed that the Ministry was so gracious as to place me into your family. It’s not going to happen. I’ll never marry you. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”
“Oh, yeah? Well the Ministry says you are, so there! I’ll see you at the Burrow tonight to start planning the wedding with my mum. She wants to do it right away to show the rest of the country that the Replenishment Decree is a brilliant plan.”
“Over. My. Dead. Body!” With that, Hermione left. She was so furious, though, that she couldn’t even use Apparition and had to resort to their secret portkey in the alley. Hermione barely took a moment to safely land behind the Notice-me-Not enchantment line near the Ministry call booth and instead slammed the door open and quickly forced it shut behind herself.
Picking up the phone, she again barely waited before blurting out, “This is Hermione Granger and I am here to see whomever is taking charge or credit of this latest Decree.”
The voice on the phone answered, “Please report to the security check station before proceeding to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
The phone box spit out her visitor’s badge reading, “Hermione Granger, Replenishment Decree” before beginning her descent into the Ministry atrium. Mumbling to herself the whole way down, Hermione didn’t even realize she was about to run headlong into someone else who was also headed to the Security desk.
“Goodness, Hermione! Look where you’re going!”
Finally standing still, Hermione realized she had just about flattened Andromeda Tonks. “Sorry, Andy, just distracted by this Decree nonsense.”
“It’s utterly ridiculous! That’s why I’m here. To go to the DMLE and see if I can’t talk some sense into someone.”
“Have you been assigned someone?” Hermione asked, reaching out to grasp Andy’s forearm.
“I don’t think so, yet. They’re sending personal announcements out as quickly as they match people apparently. You should’ve gotten yours. You were listed in The Prophet’s article.”
“I didn’t even check for the post this morning, I had one look at that rubbish in The Prophet and left to come here. Are you coming in with me? I’m putting a stop to this! They can NOT make me marry Ron!”
Andy looked a bit confused. “Hermione, forgive me, love, but I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You’re paired with Ron. One of your two very best friends in the world.”
“Oldest friends, perhaps, but best? Ron certainly doesn’t treat me like a best friend. He constantly dismisses my thoughts and opinions. He thinks I should be happy to marry into his perfect little pure-blood family. He doesn’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with this Replenishment Decree!”
“Why are you still dating him, then?”
“I’m not bloody dating Ronald Weasley! We kissed once! In the middle of a bloody battle! That does not negate seven years of misogyny and disrespect.”
“Too true!” Andromeda got quiet for a moment then. “Hermione...I know you’re the brains of the Golden Trio but I think I have an idea…”
Hoping the smirk on Andy’s face meant they would be turning the Decree on its ear, Hermione agreed to go with the other woman. Once outside, Andy pulled Hermione into a quiet alley.
“Now, listen, Hermione, we’re going to go see someone else who wants nothing to do with the person with whom they’ve been paired but you need to keep an open mind. Yes?”
“Yes, yes, fine, as long as I’m not marrying Ron,” she said impatiently.
Andromeda stepped back, narrowing her eyes. “I’m sorry, maybe this is a bad idea.”
“What? Why? Please, Andy!”
“Because I thought you wanted to stop the Replenishment Decree, not just get away from Ron.”
“Oh! Goodness, yes! This Decree is an affront to witches and wizards across Britain and I want to tell the Ministry exactly what I think of it.”
“Then you’re going to have to trust me.”
It was Hermione’s turn to narrow her eyes, “I do not like the sound of this.”
“Eh, perhaps we should go for a cup of coffee first and talk. And then I’ll take you to...this other person.”
With that agreed, the two witches headed into muggle London to find a little coffee shop. They ordered and paid for their beverages before they settled into a cozy corner in the back of the shop and Hermione couldn’t contain herself anymore.
“Just tell me already, Andromeda. You’re terrible at keeping secrets, I’ve spent enough time with you and Teddy this summer to know it. Who is this mystery person?”
“Okay, okay. It’s not like a big secret. Just, first, I want to explain some things to you. You know my name, right?”
Hermione simply stared.
“Right. And I’m the middle of three daughters; myself, preceded by Bellatrix and followed a few years later by Narcissa. When Bellatrix was twenty-two and Cissy only fourteen, I married Ted Tonks and had Nymphadora. My family disowned me, scorched me off the Black family tree, and removed all access to the vaults. Ted and I traveled a bit before we settled down here and we did our best to avoid any pure-blood families, knowing they would just tell my family we were back. I never spoke to either of my sisters again until Bellatrix showed up at my home with her crew of Snatchers and Death Eaters trying to find Ted. He wasn’t there, of course, having already gone on the run with Dirk. I heard nothing from Cissy at the time and only later found out what she did for me.”
“Narcissa Malfoy, pure-blood supremacist? She did something for you?” Hermione shook her head a tiny bit to remind herself to quiet down. A muggle coffee shop filled with twenty-somethings was not the place to shout about blood status.
“She truly did and she might have even saved my life...by sacrificing her own.” Andromeda’s eyes filled with tears. She took a breath to start again when she spotted the waiter coming with their drinks. Thankful for the reprieve she leaned back in her chair.
Without a word, the young man carefully deposited their mugs and moved on to his next task behind the counter.
Calm once more, Andromeda continued, “when I ran off to marry Ted, my mother wanted to send hit wizards after us. She would rather have a dead child than a blood-traitor. Narcissa agreed to marry Lucius Malfoy in my place if my mother agreed to let me live.”
“Oh, please, Andromeda. Your little sister got to marry a rich, powerful pure-blood and you think she sacrificed herself for you?”
“I knew you were too closed-minded to listen to me.”
“Me? Closed-minded? I don’t even understand why we’re talking about this! I thought we were here to discuss wizarding marriages and this ridiculous decree, not your torturous sisters.”
“Hermione, Bellatrix and Lucius were Seventh years when I was a Third year and Cissa wasn’t even old enough for Hogwarts yet. After those two graduated, Lord Malfoy approached my father about a union between our houses and Lucius wanted me. I insisted on being able to finish Hogwarts unwed even though Lucius wanted a wife and child immediately, my parents agreed that I, as a member of the House of Black, was due an education. By the time the end of my seventh year rolled around, Lucius and I had been betrothed for four years. Narcissa was fourteen when I ran off only days after graduation. Lucius was twenty-two. She gave up her dreams to keep me alive and I didn’t even know it. My parents were not so gracious as to let another daughter finish school before being wed. She truly sacrificed her future for my own.”
“Fine, even Narcissa Malfoy has redeeming qualities. What does this story have to do with anything?”
“I think you should marry my sister. She’s a good person who was trapped in a terrible life for a very long time. You could be a safe haven for her and she could be the same for you. All while turning this new decree right on its ear.”
Hermione wanted to say no. Hell no. Merlin’s pants, no. But...it would throw the Ministry for a loop. There had been a lot of advancements in reproductive magic in the last decade - not that she actually intended to get pregnant, but the Ministry couldn’t use that to stop them.
“I...am not actually saying no right now.”
“Okay?”
Hermione nodded slowly.
“So, you’ll talk to Narcissa?”
“I will. We should probably do it soon, though, before I lose this resolve.”
Smirking, Andromeda stood and reached a hand out to Hermione, “No time like the present.”

Instead of heading into the office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they headed to Black Manor where Narcissa and Draco now lived. Apparating just outside the front gate, Andy turned to the younger woman. “Now, Hermione,” she started, “I haven’t even spoken to Narcissa about this yet and she’s had some upsetting news this morning. She might be...less than properly hospitable at the moment but please give me a chance to explain my idea.”
Hermione swallowed noisily and nodded once, eyes forward, she was ready.

Before they could reach the steps, the door opened to reveal Draco on his way out in a handsome suit.
“Well, nephew, don’t you look dapper this early in the day. Where are you off to?”
“This Decree nonsense has me nervous. I’m going to go see if I can arrange to wed a friend before I’m paired up with some creepy Death Eater or their child.” He leaned in to kiss his aunt’s cheek and said as he was leaning back, “Mother’s in the sitting room with Teddy, he’s taking his morning nap.”
Smiling, Andy thanked him and wished him luck.
“Granger,” he nodded.
“Malfoy,” she did the same.
Hermione’s foot had just reached the top step when she heard Draco behind her take a deep breath. Glancing back she watched as Draco’s face blushed a light pink.
“Say, Granger, I saw that you’re assigned Weasley. If you’re not keen on him, what do you say…”
“Nope.”
“Well,” Draco’s face went stone cold, “I know we weren’t chummy but I’m not that bad.”
“Sorry, Draco. It’s just that, well, it’s just.” Hermione closed her eyes and blew her hair out of her face. “I didn’t mean to be so short about it, Draco, but the truth is I’m not interested in marrying any bloke. I prefer a witch to a wizard, you see.”
“Oh,” Draco chuckled, “yes. I see. So, you and Ginny?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly and backed away laughing.
“Ugh, Draco Malfoy! Go propose to Gregory Goyle!”
Pausing mid-chortle, Draco turned and tilted his head. Eyes darting around rapidly for a few moments, he finally spoke, “You know, Granger. That’s not a half-bad idea. I think I’m developing a plan.” With that, he walked quickly through the gates and Disapparated.
“This family and your plans,” Hermione teased.
Andromeda simply laughed and led the younger woman inside. As the door closed behind them a young house elf silently appeared. She was dressed in the cutest jumpsuit Hermione had ever seen.
“Hello, missus! Mistress Black is sleeping in the sitting room, missus! Pepper can get you your tea now!”
“Thank you, Pepper. We can wait until Narcissa is awake to have tea. This is my friend, Hermione.”
“Yes, missus, Pepper knows Hermione Granger. All the house elves know Hermione Granger. Pepper is pleased to meet you,” the sprightly little elf curtseyed.
Kneeling before her new acquaintance, Hermione bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I’m pleased to meet you, too, Pepper. Might I say, your outfit is lovely.”
“Thank you, Hermione Granger! Mistress Black helped Pepper pick it out. She said it made Pepper’s eyes sparkle.”
Looking at Pepper’s bright green eyes that showed kindness and a hit of mischief, Hermione couldn’t help but agree. The floral jumpsuit did bring out her eyes.
“Mistress Black was quite right! If you ever need another one, I would love to go shopping with you, Pepper.”
Bowing again, Pepper thanked Hermione profusely. Once the little elf had left, Hermione turned to Andy with tears in her eyes.
“His little sister.”
“Does Harry know?”
“Not yet. He hasn’t been here to visit Teddy, he’s only come to my house. I want to warn him before he meets Pepper that she’s so much like her brother, Dobby. Sweet, friendly, and genuinely caring. She also treasures her freedom in a unique way and has that same protective streak a mile wide.”
Incredulous, Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’d’ve died if Dobby hadn’t given his life for us. Bellatrix was going to torture me and then hand me over to Fenrir. She whispered it to me as she pinned me to the floor of Malfoy Manor. And they all just watched.” Hermione hugged herself tightly.
“Including me?” Narcissa asked quietly.
Andromeda backed away in silence to let the other two talk through the moment.
“Yes. Including you.” Hermione stood and looked past Narcissa, eyes unfocused, “You were standing there as she carved into my arm, cackling, and threatening me. Calling me vile names. Offering me up to a werewolf like a pig to slaughter. You didn’t help me. You stood there. You watched.”
“Miss Granger, I was there, you’re right. But I wasn’t standing by gleefully watching a madwoman torture you. Can you picture me? If you close your eyes can you see me there?” Narcissa took a half-step closer.
Hermione stared at Narcissa. Do I trust her enough to do this right now? No. But I do trust Andromeda. Blast. Finally, she closed her eyes. “I see you. Just over Bellatrix’s right shoulder. You have on green and black robes. Sleek. Fitted. Expensive looking but not fresh. I can see a tear in the hem on the bottom. A scuff on your expensive shoes. An extra wrinkle in your skirts where one shouldn’t be. Your hair is pinned up, though, with not a single strand out of place.”
“What else do you see, Miss Granger? Look at my face in your memory. Notice things. You’re the brightest witch of your age. What do you see?”
Frustrated but unwilling to give up, Hermione tried again, “You’re turned a little away with your body but your eyes are staring right at me. Your hands are...your hands are empty but your right hand is reaching a little. You have no wand but you’re saying something. A spell, yes, your hand turns and pulls back. You cast wandless magic! Your eyes won’t look away from my own. You’re...crying?” Opening her eyes, Hermione stared at Narcissa once more. Whispering, she asked Narcissa what she had been doing that night.
“I knew exactly what athame my sister chose for you and why she chose it. Tell me, has anything happened to the scar she gave you?” Hermione shook her head in response. “Has it turned green? Started to poison your body? Expanded to eat away at your skin?” Hermione, once again, shook her head but this time she also gripped her arm where Bellatrix had carved so deeply. “Because I cast a wandless spell to take the poison from her favorite blade into myself. I was crying because I knew what she was saying and doing to you. I knew she was torturing you in more than one way that night but I felt I was powerless to stop it. Had I stepped in they would have simply killed us both. First, though, the torture would have gotten worse. Had I stepped in, it would have guaranteed that Fenrir Greybeck was allowed to claim rights on you. By allowing the terrors Bellatrix inflicted and helping silently as I did, I was honestly trying to save you from much, much worse.”
“If you took the poison in, how are you still alive?”
“No self-respecting Black would have a poisonous athame in their Manor without the ability to produce an antidote. It was close for a moment; the Dark Lord’s arrival delayed my access but Pepper somehow knew what had happened and had the antidote ready for me when I was finally able to go to my chamber for the night. I am sorry, Hermione, that I wasn’t able to stop her completely. I wish I had known how to be stronger right from the beginning.”
Narcissa turned and started back to the sitting room, head hanging, shoulders dropped. To Hermione, Narcissa was the image of disappointment.
“Um, Lady Malfoy? Sorry, rather, Mistress Black. Could you, that is, could we, um, talk? With Andy? She has some ideas about some things…”
Nodding without slowing her pace, Narcissa agreed.
All three women settled into place around the still sleeping Teddy in his travel cot.
Unable to continue discussing That Night, Hermione turned to Andy and breathed deeply before opening the conversation, “Andromeda and I literally ran into one another in the Ministry this morning and she had an interesting idea. Andy?”
“Er, yes. So. Narcissa, this morning that silly Decree was released and you were given notice that you’re to re-wed Lucius and I was told that I’m on the list to be paired, yes?”
Narcissa nodded, her fingers twisting round each other as she fidgeted slightly.
“Of course neither of us are happy with those outcomes. You’ve just gotten out of your marriage with Lucius and I’ve only just lost my dear Ted a few months ago.”
“Yes, Andromeda, we talked about that this morning,” Narcissa stood abruptly and paced to the window, hands shaking.
“Right, we did, right. Well, when I ran into Hermione she was also very upset about the Decree and I started to think about how we could, instead of simply asking for the Ministry to show us some respect, turn their plan on its ear a bit?”
Narcissa remained silent, narrowing her eyes at her older sister. “I remember that tone of voice, Andromeda, quite well. What are you up to?”
Gulping, Hermione interrupted, “I was ordered to marry Ron Weasley as you know from The Prophet. Not only am I not in a relationship with him but I would never be in a relationship with him. First of all he’s ignorantly sexist. Second, he’s absurdly full of himself. Third, he’s lazy. And fourth, well, fourth, he’s a he.”
The youngest Black sister tilted her head in surprise at the confession.
“I know, I was shocked when she told me earlier, too, but it got me to thinking...what do you say you and Hermione turn the Ministry upside down?”
Glancing back and forth between the other two, Narcissa stayed frozen at the window. “And just how do we do such a thing?”
“Well, you two get married, of course,” Andy laughed a little.
“The two of us?”
Andromeda and Hermione nodded.
“Get married?”
They nodded again.
“To one another?”
Another nod.
After a beat, Narcissa continued, “And you’re okay with this, Miss Granger? You’d marry me? The disgraced former wife of a Death Eater? You don’t think that might cause problems for you? You’ve agreed to this?”
“Well,” Hermione moved over to stand next to Narcissa near the window overlooking the garden, “I haven’t actually agreed to it, yet. I only agreed to discuss it with you. The whole idea of arranged marriages - by families or by the government - is anathema to me. No one should be telling anyone with whom they are to share their life and their bed. I think the entire Decree is repugnant. I do think we could help to pave the way for others to refuse by wedding one another.” Waiting for Narcissa to answer, Hermione finally stopped overthinking things and took notice of the other woman. Her hair was pulled up loosely into a bun with a few escaped tendrils framing her pale face. Her makeup was light but impeccable, just a bit of dark liner around her ice blue eyes and she wore a simple blouse with trousers, clearly not intending to leave the house.
“We could. Or we could ruin your future.”
“Oh, I doubt that, Mistress Black, very much. If you and I don’t wed one another I shall still not be marrying Ronald. I haven’t a clue what the Ministry will do to me if I simply refuse to marry anyone but that’s what I’m prepared to face.”
“So, it’s me or legal repercussions? How romantic,” Narcissa said with an eye roll.
Andromeda interrupted, “I think it’s subtle but it would be the first brick laid on the road to stopping this Decree in its tracks.”
“But what about you, Andromeda?” Narcissa moved to her sister’s side. Taking the widow’s hand, she asked her what she planned to do.
“I’m going to appeal to their sympathies. But first I’m going to find myself a reporter and cry on his or her shoulder about my lovely Ted and being a widowed grandmother caring for an infant and the worry of being assigned a stranger to marry and having to introduce someone into little Teddy’s life. When I’m done, people will be stopping the Decree for me and, hopefully, for every other widow made by this horrid war.”
“Well played, Andy,” Hermione was impressed. “So, Mistress Black, what say you? Shall we head to the Ministry to light the spark of rebellion?”
Grinning at the smirk on Hermione’s face, Narcissa agreed.
“I’ll just change into something more appropriate and we can go. Though, we should perhaps come up with a plausible story for why no one knew of our supposed relationship? How long have we been together? When is your birthday? What do your parents think? How does Harry Potter deal with his best friend being involved with the mother of his schoolyard enemy?” Narcissa kept the questions coming as she made her way upstairs. Hermione stared after her, mouth agape, until she could no longer hear the melodious tones of Narcissa’s voice.
Turning towards Andy, she saw the other woman smiling.
“Welcome to the family, Miss Granger. We’re going to be sisters-in-law.”
Teddy interrupted any answer Hermione might have given when he awoke with a cry.

Twenty minutes later, Narcissa made her way regally down the front stairs to meet Hermione at the door.
“I think perhaps we should start our mission with lunch in Diagon Alley,” Narcissa suggested. “We could get people used to seeing us together and if we act like we do it all the time, they’ll believe we have. Then, when it comes out that we’ve requested to change our Decree status, they’ll be more supportive because they’ll recall having seen us together.”
“But, if we’re together, shouldn’t we be upset at the Ministry demanding we marry others?”
“Hmm, I don’t think we need to be upset. I think we can laugh it off a bit?”
Hermione tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, “Laugh it off. Like the Decree is such a ridiculous thing especially when, obviously, our relationship would come before any silly little mandate from the Ministry…”
“Exactly, Miss Granger. Rather, I should say, exactly, Hermione. Of course the Decree is of no concern to us. We are confident that the Ministry wouldn’t really seek to force witches and wizards in the modern day, nearing the new millennium, to marry or bed someone they don’t wish. Why, it’s hardly better than using Imperius!”
“Mistress Black - Narcissa - you are brilliant! That Slytherin cunning is a valuable trait.”
Grinning, Narcissa blushed a lovely shade of pink and thanked the younger woman for the compliment.
“Let’s just tell Andromeda we’re leaving, and then we can pop right over to Diagon Alley for lunch.”
The witches said their goodbyes and gave Teddy a few extra snuggles before heading out.
With a plan in place, Hermione noticed Narcissa was a bit more relaxed...until they were outside the Leaky Cauldron. Suddenly, Narcissa wasn’t smiling, her shoulders were tight, eyes downcast. Hermione glanced around before pulling the other woman to the side to ask what was going on.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Narcissa took a deep breath, clearly preparing herself for something.
“Narcissa, it’s obviously something,” Hermione whispered, moving closer, “I don’t want to start this off not knowing where you’re coming from. You look like you’re headed into battle.”
“Hermione, I am! Don’t you know? Haven’t you been around people for the last three months? Aurors are searching everywhere for the Death Eaters who haven’t yet been caught and the general population is sure I’m hiding every last one. I shouldn’t do this to you,” Narcissa anguished.
“Okay, stop right there.” Hermione cast a quick Notice-Me-Not charm on them before Apparating to a safe point in a quiet corner of Diagon Alley bypassing the need to walk through the Leaky Cauldron. Once there, Herimone spoke again, “You can’t back out on me now, Narcissa. We’re in this together. We’re protecting each other and fighting the Ministry. What better way to prove that you’re not hiding a Death Eater in your skirts than to be accompanied by a member of the Golden Trio?”
Gasping, Narcissa nodded.
“Good. Now wipe those tears away. We have an oppressive regime to topple. But first? Lunch.”
Laughing, Narcissa tucked her hand into Hermione’s elbow and allowed herself to be led to a nearby pub and seated in a cozy, romantic window booth.
The women started their conversation by sharing little tidbits about themselves; birthdays, family names, favorite school subjects but before they knew it, hours had passed and they were deep in conversation about the ease with which the Ministry had been able to enact oppressive laws for the past few years and where exactly the blame should be placed for that and how to overcome it.
“Excuse me, Miss Granger? Lady Malfoy?”
“Actually, it’s Mistress Black,” Hermione corrected their waiter, reaching over to place her hand gently atop Narcissa’s.
“My apologies, Mistress Black. I wanted to inquire if you wished to order anything else. Dinner perhaps?”
“Dinner?” Hermione’s brow furrowed, “My goodness, it’s dark outside!”
“I didn’t even realize,” Narcissa laughed a bit. “Would it be a problem for us to stay and have dinner? We can go if we’re taking up the table too long,” she offered.
“No need to go,” he said gently, “You’re free to order dinner as well. I tried to say something earlier but your conversation was tough to break into!”
Blushing, Hermione cleared her throat and the pair decided on dinner and a bottle of wine.
As they finished their plates, the two were setting plans for the weekend.
“I think you’ll really love the National Gallery, Narcissa. I haven't been in so long because of Hogwarts and then Voldemort but, I’d really love to visit.”
“It sounds like a lovely way to spend what looks to be a rainy Friday. Thank you for inviting me,” Narcissa said quietly.
“Of course! I love museums,” Hermione chuckled at herself.
Glancing first down, and then out the window, Narcissa confessed, “I’ve actually never been to one.”
Hermione reached out once more to cover the other woman’s hand with her own. Kindly, she said, “Well, Narcissa, I’m honored to take you on your first visit then.”
Narcissa, clearing her throat daintily, gestured for the waiter to bring the bill. Once it was settled and the women were back in Diagon Alley, they realized how late it had gotten.
“Narcissa, I think we should pop back to Black Manor from here, it’s awfully dark.” Hermione, her hand fitted into Narcissa’s elbow this time, tightened her hold on the other woman.
“Side-along?”
Murmuring her agreement, Hermione closed her eyes to the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a straw.
Standing outside the gates to Black Manor, the lady of the house turned to Hermione, “Well, Miss Granger. I’ve actually had a completely delightful day with you.”
“And I with you, Mistress Black,” Hermione laughed at their faux formalities. “I’ll come round tomorrow morning. Early?”
“Mmm, yes. Come by before 8 and we can explain the situation to Draco over breakfast before heading to the Ministry.”
Leaning in, Hermione pressed her lips carefully to Narcissa’s pale cheek, “Goodnight, Narcissa. I’ll see you in the morning.” She pulled back and opened the gate for the other woman.
Narcissa didn’t say another word. She simply walked through the open gate and allowed it to close behind her. She turned to watch as Hermione Disaparrated and then reached up, unthinkingly, to brush her fingers across the heat the younger woman had left behind with her kiss.
“I’m planning to start a rebellion against a ministry decree by marrying a muggle-born witch seventeen years younger than me,” Narcissa laughed right out loud.