Chapter Text
“Please don’t make me do this, there has to be another way,” I beg Kingsley while waving the parchment that showed up at my window this morning. “You can’t honestly expect me to marry him, reformed or not, we’re just not a suitable match; we were never even really friends.”
I’ve been trying to make the same arguments for an hour, and Kingsley’s irritation is showing as he simply pushes the parchment away from him and crosses his arms. He leans back against his desk, giving me a look as if I’m a child throwing a senseless tantrum. “I cannot make exceptions to the law, if you wish to appeal, you will have to go through the proper steps and–”
“Please,” I cut him off desperately, dropping to my knees in what I know is a last attempt at trying to plead my case. “Please don’t make me do this, I am begging you.”
He gives me a sad look, pushing away from his desk and walking towards me. He grabs me by the elbows and gently drags me to my feet, rubbing circles on my arm with his thumb before he speaks. “I’m sorry, Hermione. There’s no other choice. You either accept the match,” he pauses and forces me to meet his eyes before continuing in an even softer voice than before. “Or you give up your wand.”
He blurs before me as I finally allow my tears to spill from my eyes, shaking my head. “He’ll never accept this match,” I whisper. “Kingsley, he’ll find a way to get rid of me, you know I’m not his type. I’m not a pureblood, his family won’t approve, and neither will he and–”
“He’s already agreed,” Kingsley cuts me off softly. “Draco has changed a lot from the boy you knew. He is a good man, Hermione.”
“I don’t want to do this,” I croak, shaking my head, my fists clenched at my sides. “I can participate in the repopulation law another way, if you just look at my proposal again–”
He shakes his head, turning away and walking back to his desk. “No, Hermione. Children need two parents–”
“There are children who don’t even have one parent! Why can’t I just adopt?”
“I’ve already told you why; we need more magical children born. Our race is going to die out–”
“You know that’s impossible–”
“No, Hermione. No, I will not exempt you from the law. No, you will not find a sperm donor and bring a child into an untraditional home. Just because it works for the Muggles, doesn’t mean it will work here. There are traditions in the Wizarding world that need to be upheld, I will not allow your untraditional upbringing to divert the customs and traditions we’ve upheld for many generations.”
“Things need to change, Kingsley! You can’t tell me all these traditions and customs have been wholly good for–”
“This discussion is over,” he snaps, turning around and glaring at me. “Even if I were to say yes to any of your ridiculous ideas, nobody else on the Wizengamot would agree. No, Hermione. You can either marry Draco Malfoy or you can give up your wand and go back to living your Muggle life.”
I stand frozen, not knowing what else I can say.
When I’d gotten the slip of parchment with Draco Malfoy’s name on it as my supposed perfect match, I’d been confident that he would also disagree and maybe Kingsley would not want to alienate someone from the Sacred 28, who also happens to donate a lot of galleons to many departments and causes since the war. Malfoy agreeing to the match completely throws my momentum and leaves me outnumbered.
I had honestly figured he wouldn’t want someone like me popping up on his family tree, tying my ‘dirty’ blood to his ‘pure’ one. Although we had moments where we were amicable in school – and a few moments where I could see a friendship blossoming if we spent more time together – I’d never go so far as to assume that we were friends or even accomplices now. We really just had a few people who ran in the same circles, and as long as Harry and Ron weren’t around, he would be cordial in an indifferent-couldn’t-care-about-you-more-or-less-than-I-already-do way. Usually, if we were in the same room, we’d maybe exchange a few words, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye most of the time, and he was always stiff and distant.
“If you find another match in the next week, we can match Mr.Malfoy with someone else,” Kingsley says encouragingly.
I snort, shaking my head and wiping my face.
“I heard Mr.Theodore Nott proposed to you just last week in the Atrium, and you said no. Perhaps revisiting that wouldn’t be a bad idea if you’re so opposed to your match with Mr.Malfoy.”
“That was hardly a proposal, we’re just friends,” I say with a glare. “He deserves to find happiness with someone he can love, not to be tied down with someone just because he doesn’t want them to be in a shitty position.”
Kingsley hums, sighing before sitting behind his desk and clasping his hands in front of him. “I would recommend you speak with Mr.Malfoy, maybe come up with an acceptable contract for your relationship and set expectations. The sooner you provide an heir, the sooner you can live separate lives. It isn’t uncommon in some families to live in separate homes after familial duties are completed.”
“I won’t give him an heir,” I snap. “I will not sleep with him; the only way he gets an heir out of me under your law is if he forces himself on me.”
Kinglsey sighs, “The law states you have two years to provide an heir or you’ll both be sent to Azkaban for five years, pending a new match until an heir is successfully produced. A lot can happen in two years, Hermione. He speaks rather fondly of you.” He flips through a file on his desk before grabbing his quill and signing the file. “I cannot promise that the next match will be different or better than what you’re getting right now. If you cannot bring yourself to love him, then maybe establish a friendship or treat this as a business arrangement. There are things you could both gain from such an arrangement if you work together and set expectations.”
I sit on the loveseat in the center of the room, hugging my middle. I try to search my brain for anything else I can say, anything I can bargain with, but after two hours of this I’ve used everything I can think of.
After fighting in a battle as a teenager, after surviving him, after losing my parents trying to reverse the damage from erasing their memories, after pulling myself out of the depths of my depression, I can’t believe this is what’s next for me. Being told to choose between a loveless marriage or losing my magic; they might as well have asked me to kill myself.
“I won’t forgive you for this,” I say finally. I look at him, and I’m shocked to see that he’s giving me a sad look as he nods.
“I know,” he murmurs softly. “Harry said the same thing, but I’m hopeful that magic knows best and this will be for the best. I hope one day you’ll forgive me, but if you find you cannot forgive me in this lifetime, then I hope you can at least find happiness in your circumstances.” He stands and walks around his desk slowly, kneeling before me and clasping my hands between both of his. “You deserve the best in this world. I think Draco could make you content, if you only give him a chance. Talk to him. Feel him out. He might surprise you.”
“Just because he’s a good man in general, doesn’t mean he’ll be good for me.”
“Get to know him, Hermione. He’s really the boy you remember him being.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, holding his dark eyes before straightening up and wiping my hands on my jeans, grabbing my coat from where I’d draped it on the arm of the chaise and pulling it on. I’d made my decision weeks ago, when the law was first passed, and I know Kingsley knew about it. He’d seen me making preparations. Today was just a last effort.
“I quit, effective immediately,” I say, keeping my tone neutral, arms clasped in front of me and my chin held high despite my face feeling puffy from all the crying I have done over the past few hours – even before I’d shown up in his office.
He sighs, straightening his robes and nodding. “I figured as much. Are you certain with your decision, Miss Granger? Perhaps take some time to think things through before making this decision? I thought your goal was to eventually take over my job as Minister.”
“I never intended to become Minister, I only wished to serve one who was good and would bring change to our world. Unfortunately, I do not think that is you, Minister Shacklebolt.”
I do not wait for his response, pulling a folder out of my beaded bag and holding it out to him. “I gathered a list of candidates suitable to take over my position, you’ll find them enclosed here. Have a good evening, Minister.”
With that, I turn on my heels and walk out of his office, closing the door behind myself. I walk the few steps to my desk and grab the few belongings I kept here – a picture of Crookshanks and I when I was a teenager, my planner, umbrella, and a few pens (because Quills are inconvenient sometimes). Once I have gathered my belongings, I make my way out of the Ministry, ignoring the storm building within me.