Chapter 3
The morning air in the Ministry of Magic was thick with tension, pressing down on my shoulders like an invisible weight. I moved with purpose through the marble corridors of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, my precise steps drowned out by the voices of the wizards and witches who followed in my wake.
I had earned this. Every shred of respect, every cautious glance, every approving nod—I had fought for them.
I had bled for them.
And now, everything was slipping through my fingers.
The world I had helped rebuild was unraveling at the seams. The Revenants were gaining ground in the dark corners of the wizarding world, their influence spreading like a curse. The whispers in the shadows grew louder, their eerie echoes a haunting symphony in the very halls of power. Peace had never felt so fragile. And when Kingsley Shacklebolt summoned me to his office last night, I knew something was coming.
I just didn’t expect this.
A political marriage.
My fingers tightened around the official summons, crumpling the parchment in my grip. I had spent the better part of the night staring at it, hoping the ink would shift, that the name beside mine would change, that it would be someone else’s.
But the words remained the same.
Draco Malfoy.
I inhaled sharply, steadying myself as I approached my office. The door swung open at my touch, revealing stacks of reports piled high, and a steaming cup of tea on my desk—a silent gift from my assistant, who must have sensed the storm brewing behind my eyes.
With a flick of my wand, the door shut behind me, locking with a solid click.
I tossed the crumpled parchment onto my desk, staring at the name as if it were a cruel joke.
Draco Malfoy.
Of all people.
The boy who had once sneered the word Mudblood with such sharpness it could have cut through steel. The boy whose family had taken the wrong side of history. The boy who had nearly lost himself in the darkness.
But he hadn’t.
No, he had lived. He had survived. And, miraculously, he had changed.
I knew that.
I had read the reports. I had seen the testimonials.
He had defied the ideology that had been drilled into him since birth. He had shunned the public eye, refusing to assume the arrogant role his father had once held. He had been offered deals, positions of power, and yet he had declined them all.
Still, none of that erased who he was.
None of it changed our history.
I raked a hand through my curls and exhaled sharply.
This wasn’t about me. This wasn’t about him.
This was about war.
The Revenants were coming.
And if marrying Draco Malfoy meant preventing another war and preserving the fragile peace we had fought so hard for, I would do it.
Even if it meant committing myself to a man who, once upon a time, would have let me burn.
My fingers twitched with the desire to set the summons alight. An immature impulse, but an enticing one.
Unwelcome memories surged to the surface, ghosts of the past haunting my thoughts. The way he sneered at me in the Hogwarts corridors, his voice dripping with malice. The way he stood by while his father served a monster, his family profiting from cruelty and subjugation.
I had once believed, foolishly, that he might have a sliver of redemption. That moment atop the Astronomy Tower when his wand trembled in his hands. That flicker of doubt had sparked something in me—a foolish hope.
But he had fled.
When the moment of decision came, he chose the coward’s path. He had run with his mother while his father remained, fighting and dying in service to the Dark Lord.
Lucius Malfoy had deserved his fate. His death inspired no sorrow in me.
But the thought of his son—of Draco—standing at the altar beside me, reciting vows in front of the entire wizarding world?
That made my stomach turn.
I clenched my fist.
There had to be another way.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I said.
I turned and inhaled deeply before waving my wand. The lock clicked open, and the door swung forward to reveal a tall figure in dark robes. Kingsley Shacklebolt, his expression unreadable, his presence commanding as ever.
“Have you made your decision?” he asked, his deep voice calm yet expectant.
I swallowed, my throat dry, my fingers tightening around the edge of my desk. The parchment in front of me felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of all the sacrifices that had been made—and those still to come.
This was more than a decision.
This was a point of no return.
I had agonized over it for days, poring over reports until the words blurred, analyzing every risk, mapping out every consequence. Logic and reason had always been my allies, but this time, they offered no comfort. Every scenario led to the same outcome: uncertainty, danger, and a cost too high to measure.
I had made lists. I had weighed duty against conscience, ethics against necessity. And yet, for all my calculations, I was unprepared for this moment.
The corridor behind Kingsley flickered with dim torchlight, shadows stretching long against the stone walls. The Ministry was strangely silent at this hour, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. It felt as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for my answer.
My thoughts drifted to Harry and Ron—their laughter, their loyalty, the bond we had forged through hardship. We had fought, bled, and rebuilt the world together.
What would they say if they knew?
Would they understand? Or would they see it as a betrayal?
Doubt twisted through my chest, a sharp and unrelenting ache. Their potential disappointment, their anger—it would be unbearable.
But deep down, I knew that if I let fear dictate my choices, I would never forgive myself.
My heart pounded in my ears as I exhaled slowly, pushing the uncertainty aside. This wasn’t about fear. It wasn’t about guilt.
This was about what had to be done.
I lifted my chin, meeting Kingsley’s gaze with unwavering resolve.
“I’ll do it.”
For a moment, he simply looked at me, his dark eyes searching mine, weighing my conviction. Then, with a solemn nod, he stepped aside, no longer an obstacle, but an invitation. A door now open.
“Then there’s no turning back.”
His words settled over me like an irreversible spell.
And despite the fear and uncertainty coiling in my chest, I stepped forward.
Because sometimes, the right path wasn’t the easiest one.
It was simply the one that had to be taken.