Part Three
Part Three:
Hermione, once she and Ginny arrived back in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place, made a quick escape up to the spare room before Ginny could wrangle her into a deep talk about her feelings. In truth, she didn’t even know what she felt, let alone how to put it into words. Her logical side, the side she tried to most heavily rely on, told her that the Ministry could be trusted, that sacrifices must sometimes be made to ensure the safety of future generations. After all, what else were the months she willingly traipsed the countryside in a tent, searching for Horcruxes if not a personal sacrifice for the common good. This should be no different, and perhaps even easier.
But, in the same breath, the emotional side of her brain pictured a wedding with a vague outline of a stranger and she felt her palms go sweaty. What kind of life would that be? What if, despite Shacklebolt's promises, her match was old, or vile, or in love with someone else? And then, of course, she thought of Ron, the image of her wedding shifting so that he stood across from her. If things had gone differently none of this would feel so scary. Maybe they’d already be married and the law wouldn’t even apply. Instead, here she was, having to wonder what stranger the Ministry would choose for her and if she would be willing to give up her magic forever if they picked poorly. How did she end up here? She flopped, face down onto the bed, and let out a muffled scream. The mattress dipped as Crookshanks jumped up beside her, stepping painfully over her back as he moved to nuzzle against her. He wasn’t a cat that did a lot of purring, but his warm, fishy breath felt oddly comforting as he pressed his wet nose into her cheek.
“You’re lucky you’re a cat.” Hermione told him, turning so she could scratch beneath his chin. His eyes closed as he leaned into it. “You don’t have to worry about anything except when I’ll feed you dinner.” Crookshanks nudged her hand, inviting more scratches. “What am I supposed to do?” Hermione said, her voice coming out pinched as she suddenly felt a rush of tears. No more crying, isn’t that what she’d promised herself. No more crying over things she couldn’t control. To Crookshanks’ extreme displeasure, she pulled herself upright, and moved to rummage through the still packed trunk in the center of the room. Pulling out a quill and a scrap of parchment with some notes on bone regrowth, she flipped to the blank side and began writing a list of all the things she was sure of, hoping it may help solidify the rest.
- Data shows rise in blood status related attacks
- Marriage law passed through proper legal channels
- I am not forced to participate
- If I left Britain, I would have to begin my Healer training from scratch
- Harry and Ginny will participate in the law.
- I cannot give up my magic.
As she wrote the last point, she found herself once again swallowing a lump in her throat, despite her best efforts. The truth of it was becoming clear, the choice wasn’t really a choice at all. Maybe for others, but not for her. The pain of leaving the Burrow, of losing Ron, would be a pinprick compared to the agony of having to start all over in a new country without her friends or her work. And, the thought of turning in her wand, of giving up her magic and returning to live in the Muggle world was impossible. She’d fought so hard, lost so much, to finally get her footing in the wizarding world. How could she go back to an ordinary life she hadn’t been a part of since she was a kid? She couldn’t, that was the answer. So, if both of her options given by the Ministry were nonstarters, and the law really was as set in stone as Shacklebolt made it seem, then she was left with no choice but to participate.
She felt herself beginning to spiral at this realization, her breath coming fast and shallow. She needed a plan, a map. Some kind of steady direction because in this moment, she felt entirely lost, the future suddenly a blurry, unclear thing. Fishing out another half used scrap of parchment, she started a new list. This one far messier, the quill shaking in her hand.
- Discuss Marriage Law with Harry/Ginny and get on same page
- Once packet of information arrives, read law thoroughly and look for loopholes
- Ron
Her quill stilled as she finished his name, suddenly unsure of what she needed to specially do with Ron. She was just about to cross it out, but she stopped. Would this marriage law change things for them? The break-up was still fresh, still new. Clearly neither of them had begun dating again. Would he expect them to get back together? To get married? Did she want him to expect it? She pressed her palms against her eyes, blocking out all the light in the room and let out a half groan, half sigh. At the noise, there was a timid knock at the door and Ginny poked her head in.
“How are we doing in here?” She asked with a level of forced casualness that made Hermione want to roll her still closed eyes. She wondered how long Ginny had been waiting outside the bedroom door. They’d only been home maybe half an hour at most. Honestly, Hermione wouldn’t put it past her friend to have been there the whole time, waiting for some sign that Hermione was ready to talk.
“I’m okay.” Hermione said, peeling her hands back and trying to give a reassuring smile.
“I mean, you’re clearly not, and that’s okay. It’s a very ‘not okay’ kind of situation.” Ginny said, moving into the room and settling on the end of the bed.
“You seem to be doing a lot better than this morning, or yesterday.” Hermione could hear the bitterness in her voice, it was thick with it, and she was immediately guilty. “Sorry.” It wasn’t Ginny’s fault that she just so happened to be in a deeply committed relationship with a half-blood wizard who she would be more than willing to marry. And it definitely wasn’t her fault that up until a month ago, Hermione would have been in the exact same position. But then again, maybe not. Even at their best, in those early days after the war, she wasn’t sure if she and Ron had ever achieved the sort of secure and loving relationship that Ginny and Harry had built.
“Like I said,” Ginny said, shrugging off the passive aggression “it’s a very ‘not okay’ day. Besides, I am better.” She reached her hand across the space to take Hermione’s. “I want you to know that you can talk to me. About any of it. I know that it may seem like I got the best version of this bad deal, and I did, but you can still talk to me.” And here, her voice got all watery. “And if you decide you can’t stay because of all of this, if you have to leave, I’m still going to love you.” Ginny was not a crier. Hermione considered herself tough (the last few months notwithstanding) but Ginny was leagues beyond her. So when Ginny’s chin began to quiver, Hermione felt her own barriers crumbling. No crying. She reminded herself, even as she swiped at the wetness running down her cheeks. No more crying.
“It’s all going to be okay.” She said, mostly to herself, but Ginny nodded in agreement. “I’m not going anywhere. How could I leave you all? Where would I even go?”
“But are you really going to let the Ministry just assign you a husband?” Ginny asked. “Questionnaire or no questionnaire, I don’t know how they could possibly do a good job. Maybe we could set you up first, find a nice pureblood so we at least know what you’re getting into?” Hermione imagined it, being set up with some distant Weasley cousin to go on an awkward blind date and then, at the end, deciding if she would write his name down on the Ministry form. How long would they even have to complete and return them? If she were a betting witch, she’d assume the Ministry wanted to tie up the first round of marriages as quickly as possible to avoid any sort of resistance to the law. Ginny let go of Hermione’s hand and clapped hers together in excitement. “What about Neville?” Ginny said, her face lighting up.“He’s a nice guy, and has definitely grown into those ears of his, and he’s teaching at Hogwarts now. That seems like your type.” Hermione was about to interrupt Ginny to remind her that Neville wasn’t single, when she realized that at least in the eyes of the Ministry, he was. Luna was a pureblood as well.
“Poor Neville and poor Luna.” Hermione said softly, and the momentary joy left Ginny’s face. “I can’t imagine how hard this will be for people like them.”
“Maybe they’ll go right now and get married before we get anything official from the Ministry. I guess it’s still technically just a rumor at this point.”
“I doubt the Ministry would approve the wedding.” Hermione said, “Now that the leak is out, they wouldn’t want a rush of all the Death Eater sympathizers trying to lock in their pure blood lines.”
“Well,” Ginny said, after several beats of silence “is that a firm ‘no’ on Neville then?”
“Yes, Ginny. A firm ‘no’ on anyone who is about to be heartbroken over their lost love.” Ginny’s knee bounced anxiously against the edge of the bed, and she was suddenly staring very intently out the window behind Hermione’s head.
“Do you…” She started, and then stopped. From her nervousness, Hermione could bet where the question was headed, but she wasn't about to help Ginny get there. After a moment, she tried again. “Are you going to talk to Ron about it?” There it was, and even though Hermione expected it, she still felt her chest squeeze painfully.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
“I think I should at least talk to him. Right? It’s not like I’m going to ask him to marry me, I just think I shouldn’t fill out the form without at least having a conversation.” Ginny was looking at her again, eyes searching her face.
“If that’s what you want to do, then yeah, talk to him.”
“You don’t think I should?” Hermione asked, voice wary. “You’re the one who asked.” Ginny just shook her head.
“I want you to do what is going to make you the happiest possible, given the circumstances. If you think talking to Ron is a part of that, then go for it. But I also know how my brother is. He’s an asshole, even on his best days, and I’m sure if you go over there, it’s just going to add more hurt to the pile you’re already lugging around with you.”
“But we only just broke up.” Hermione said, a note of desperation in her voice. “If we’d known this was coming, what if we had stayed together?”
“Maybe officially it’s only been a month.” Ginny said “But you all have been a train wreck since before Harry and I moved out. You fought so much it made you both miserable, and then you’d punish each other for being miserable. Can you honestly tell me, Hermione, that if Shacklebolt had enacted the law six weeks ago, you and Ron would be happily writing each other's names down on the form with no second thoughts?” Hermione didn’t answer, and after a moment, Ginny soldiered on, her tone growing more annoyed with each word. “Don’t forget why you’re here in the first place.” She said, gesturing around to the spare room. “I practically had to drag you here because he was making living in the Burrow so absolutely hellish for you that you were a mess. He did that. He broke up with you and then treated you like garbage when you were the one who was in pain.” Hermione flinched at the memory. The way he’d be ignoring her existence one second, picking fights in the next, and then back to ignoring her the moment she got any ground in the argument at all.
“I’m not going to marry him, Ginny. I just feel like I should talk to him.”
“Like I said, do what you think you need to. But all I know is that you held on to that relationship for so long, trying to make it work, trying to change yourself to make him happy. And if you’re even a little worried that you’ll get in a room with him and walk out of it thinking a marriage might work, then I don’t think you should see him.” Hermione hadn’t thought of that specific angle yet, and it struck something within her. She was weak when it came to Ron. She’d always been weak. Even back in their Hogwarts years, she’d practically written entire essays for him just because he’d asked. She thought back to yesterday morning, which somehow felt like years ago, when she’d been so hoping that he’d sent her a letter. Even in the midst of her heartbreak, she was hoping for him to change his mind. Ginny was right. If Ron asked her to marry him, she would say yes.
“So what do I do?” Hermione asked, “Just ignore him forever? What if neither of us writes a name down and the Ministry matches us.” Ginny scoffed,
“If their matching system is even the tiniest bit accurate, it will not put you and Ron together. But if you feel like you have to say something. Maybe write him a letter. Send it to him and then, if he wants, he can write you back. But at least you won’t have all that emotion in one room. And, you can have Harry and I read it over before you agree to anything. We can be like your middle men.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Oh I would happily tell my brother to fuck right off if you wanted me to.” She said easily. “I know Harry’s got it in his mind that you two will just one day snap back to being friends and the trio can once again be back to how you all were in your golden days, but he still loves you. I don’t think he wants you to marry Ron any more than I do.” Hermione just rolled her eyes. While Ginny’s rough relationship with her brother was no secret, she never expressed any dislike of Hermione dating him until after they’d broken up. Hermione still hadn’t decided if that was just Ginny being a good friend and letting Hermione make her own choices, or if her vocal distaste of it now was just her trying to empathize.
“A letter sounds like a safe idea.” Hermione relented and was rewarded with a smile.
“Good.” Ginny said, glancing down at the bed between them where Crookshanks had spread himself out over the scraps of parchment. “And maybe take a break from the list writing. I know you think it makes it easier, but it really just makes you over think.” She stood then, reaching down to lift Crookshanks up under his front legs. He let out a half hearted hiss. Even he seemed to realize that fighting Ginny on anything was a losing battle. “Write your letter, it’s probably better if you send it before we get that formal information from the Ministry. Let me know if you want me to proof-read or anything.” Ginny leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of Hermione’s head, a bit of ginger cat hair getting into Hermione's mouth as she did so. And, without another word, Ginny carried the cat out of the room, speaking sweet nothings to him in a high pitched baby voice that Hermione was sure Crookshanks would hate.