Like she was a goddess on her untouchable pedestal, Ginny Weasley looked down at her fellow Gryffindors from the center of their common room. 

"Shacklebolt has done us wrong," her voice rung out, spurring both silence and loud roars of agreement. "We cannot stand by this! We must not allow this! The Ministry has no right to our lives! We fought a war for freedom, and damn it, we will have our freedom!"

Colorful sparks flew out of a few wands as all her supporters cheered.

"Hear! Hear!" Seamus stood up on Dean's armchair, making himself seen to his fellow house-mates, too. "I've had my eye on a Ravenclaw witch for the past year—the real future Mrs. Finnegan! I'm not gonna let the Ministry take that away from me, and neither should you!"

Dean punched the back of his best friend's calf, making him stumble off the armrest of his seat. "She doesn't even know your name, mate. You run the opposite way every time she comes your way."

"I do not!" There was a chorus of snorts throughout the gather of Gryffindors. Most of them had seen Seamus turn pink from head to toes, scurrying off every time anyone with a skirt so much as approached him. "Shut it! I have the perfect romancing plan this year. Ten Steps to Getting the Witch of Your Dreams. Bought it from Fred and George Sixth Year—"

Silence suddenly invaded the common room. Slowly, all eyes once more turned to Ginny. The red on her cheeks from her impassioned rally was now paling, something in her gaze fighting off grief to maintain her strength in front of her audience.

"That's enough from all of you," Hermione spoke up, pushing her way past her fellow Gryffindors. "None of us like the idea of what the Ministry is doing, but it is law. And seeing as we yet have every detail about how all of this will work, let us remember that we are bound to uphold these laws or face the consequences of breaking them. There's nothing we can do right now."

"Potter for Minister!" Seamus jumped up on another chair, throwing a fist high in the air. "Potter! Potter! Potter!"

There was an immediate chorus coming from everyone around Hermione. She glared at them just as Harry groaned, looking away from the corrections Hermione had done on his Charms homework. "I'm not running for Minister, Seamus," he said, earning a loud booing from some house-mates. 

"But, Potter, think about—"

"No," Harry told his friend, now disregarding his essay to stand. The crowd parted to let him approach Ginny.  He extended a hand up to her, the action making her raise a sharp, red brow at him. "Come on, Gin. Hermione's right. Rallying isn't going to help us right now."

"It isn't a rally, mate," Dean said from his seat. "She's starting a revolution."

Harry ignored him, his hand still out. "We'll be fine. I promise."

"Don't promise that," Ginny told him. "You can't. Not when there's a chance you'll go off to someone like Romilda Vane and I go back to Dean."

At her very apparent disdain, Dean glared at his ex-girlfriend. "Oi," he hissed, "I've told you, I never pushed you. It's not my fault you're actually very clumsy."

Harry and Hermione shared a look that made one grin and the other roll her eyes. With a clearing of his throat, he did not wait for Ginny to take his hands. He reached for hers, lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight. 

"Listen," he began, "I'm not scared about this marriage law, okay? Because I know that I love you more than anything. And we did not survive this war for us to not be together. Because we will be. I know it. Can't you believe that, too?"

Ginny inhaled, demanding her tears to stay exactly where they were. "Of course I believe that."

A loud aw echoed around the common room, along with giggles and obscene kissing noises. 

"Shut it," Ginny hissed at them, but she still let Harry lift her off the table and into his arms.

Hermione smiled not at the romantic, adorable moment between her friends (because they had a lot of those now), but at the fact that Harry had managed to stop Ginny from building herself an army (Dean was right—Ginny would start a full-blown revolution). 

"You seem awfully compliant about this whole thing, Hermione," Ron said to her when she retook her seat next to him. He briefly looked up at her from an old Quidditch magazine he was absentmindedly flipping through. "Hoping the sorting hat will pair you off with Cormac Mclaggen?"

She narrowed brown eyes at the snort that followed his comment. "Wanting to pacify your sister and everyone else that thinks they can go to war with Kingsley does not make me compliant, Ronald. This is clearly a matter completely out of his control. The Wizengamot passes laws. Kingsley is only responsible for presenting them to the community. If we want to put a stop to these marriages before they even happen, we have to start by persuading members of the council to change their minds."

"You can't make those twats change their minds about anything," Ron said through clenched teeth, now disregarding his magazine completely. "Or don't you remember? They refused to give the scum who killed my brother the Dementor's Kiss."

Hermione's hand stilled on her quill, the dot of ink growing and bleeding through her last sentence and the parchment. She did not know what to say to him whenever he brought this up. It was bad enough that he splinched himself again when he disapparated in a blur of devastating fury when they heard the Wizengamot's verdict, letting himself almost bleed out before he even let her and Harry help him to St. Mungo's to save his life. The rest was always just a screaming fest, his magic flaring, turning anything fragile into dust.

Alike their once-blooming romance.

"But you don't care about that, do you?" he added, standing from the couch they were sharing. "You even advocated for the entire Malfoy family from spending the rest of their miserable lives in Azkaban after what they had done."

"Ronald," Hermione managed to say through a knot in her throat, uncertainty and frustration shadowing her tone, "Narcissa Malfoy saved Harry's life. Draco Malfoy didn't turn us in to Bellatrix Lestrange, he was forced to do terrible things, and he gave Harry his wand that helped in defeating Voldemort. I'm not saying they are good people, but that not everyone needs to die to—"

"Fred didn't need to die, either," Ron hissed at her, "but he's still gone, isn't he?"

"And that's my fault?"

Ron leaned back, almost confused himself on how their conversation ended up here, with tears in both their eyes, anger reflecting off each other. 

"I didn't say—"

"Just go," Hermione breathed, looking back down at her homework. With trembling fingers, she smudged the ink further into her parchment, making a bigger mess of her essay. She waited until she saw his feet stomp away before she paused, focusing on a nonverbal that would undo the blotchy ink from her work.

Once it was clean, she looked up, sniffling. 

She knew Ron was having trouble accepting Fred's death and all the consequences of having fought in a war, but so was everyone else. He had not fought that war on his own. He had not grieved on his own. She had been there beside him every step of the way. She did not deserve his anger, no matter how much he was hurting. After all, what she deserved was respect. And if he was not going to give it to her, then she was going to give it to herself. 

Even if that meant putting distance between them. 

"Are you all right?" Lavender dropped herself beside Hermione, twisting her body around as she crossed her legs over one another. "I sort of heard most of your conversation with Ron—mostly because I was eavesdropping," she gave her a small laugh, reaching over to squeeze Hermione's knee. "He's always been an arse, hasn't he?"

Hermione wanted to disagree, but he had indeed always been difficult. 

"Give it some time," Lavender then said with another squeeze. "He'll come around once he starts noticing that everyone is moving on with their lives. Don't lose faith in him or what you two have."

It was Hermione's turn to let out a laugh (that sounded closely to a choked sob). "We don't have anything—not anymore, anyway. He made sure to tell me that this summer."

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Are you?"

Lavender shrugged, leaning back against the couch now. "War gives people perspective, doesn't it? The last thing on my mind was Ron breaking up with me because he had finally accepted he had feelings for you. When Greyback had me pinned down, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to live."

Hermione watched Lavender run a hand down the left side of her face, her fingers rubbing at the thick, jagged line that disappeared and continued under her school uniform. It reminded her of the ink she had previously blotted on her homework and how she had hoped her own fingers would make it disappear before having magic make everything even again.

 Yet, magic could not make the blotches on Lavender's skin to disappear.

"Imagine that," Hermione mumbled, "surviving a war only to have our Ministry marry us off to keep the population from declining."

Lavender laughed, loud and happy. It startled Hermione. "I, for one, think it's brilliant. I've been trying to get Seamus to stop slobbering over that Ravenclaw since last year. The Ministry's just going to do it for me now."

Despite herself, Hermione laughed just as loud as her fellow Gryffindor. "That's absolutely awful."

"He never had a chance with her, anyway," Lavender grinned one last time before it faded away. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you going to survive this marriage law?"

Hermione's laughter died instantly. She had not really thought about what it meant for her. She had been too preoccupied with keeping Ginny and the others from organizing a fight—she had not once thought about who the sorting hat would be giving her as a partner. 

Now she really was terrified—what if she did end up with Cormac McLaggen? Or worse, someone as daft and dull as Goyle?

XX

As they dragged their feet through the doors of the Great Hall, Sixth and Seventh Years mumbled curses and sent glares at the two authoritative figures standing at the front of the room. They offered warm greetings like the students were not marching with clouds of doom and thunder over their heads.

"Piss off," Ron muttered under his breath when Kingsley nodded in his direction. He grumbled further when Hermione took him by the elbow, quickly motioning him to the nearest bench for them to sit.

All of the benches faced the front of Great Hall where the sorting hat waited on top of a stool all of them had once sat upon years ago.

 "I see you're alive," Ginny said to Kingsley with a huff, crossing her arms just as Harry scratched his head, looking away from the friend who was caught in the awkward position of being the Minister of Magic who was responsible in upholding a horrible marriage law that could ultimately (legally) separate him from his girlfriend. "Even though I specifically owled George with instructions to poison you while you were over for dinner last night."

"Ginny," Kingsley sighed, deep and frustrated, "threatening the Minister's life is an act of treason. You are aware of this, correct?"

"Kingsley," repeated Ginny in his same tone, "threatening to meddle with my life and relationship is an act of treason. You are aware of this, correct?"

Hermione stretched over Ron, reaching to grab any part of Ginny's school robes to pull her down to her seat. "She's only joking, Minister," she said with an apologetic smile just as Ginny smacked her hand away, but still sat rigidly beside Harry. 

"She capitalized murder and underlined it ten times, Miss Granger," Kingsley said. "George showed me the letter."

Ginny snorted, turning away from the Minister just as McGonagall cleared her throat, commanding attention in order to begin the unavoidable. 

"Before we begin with the sorting, there are a few things the Minister of Magic would like to discuss," the Headmistress said as the Great Hall filled with unease. 

Hermione heard a groan just behind her. She turned to her left, tensing further when she found Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy sat a few inches from her. 

"Salazar, what else is there?" Blaise grunted. "A sub-law forcing us to hug a Hufflepuff a day? Starting a charity to help Marcus Flint and his urgent, dental reconstruction? Adopting a house-elf for this damn S.P.E.W. thing I keep hearing about in the kitchens? I'm exhausted, mate. Just fucking exhausted. I'm this close to ditching this world and passing off as a muggle."

Hermione waited for Malfoy to react, to tell his fellow Slytherin just how degrading it would be for a pureblood to even think of sharing air with a muggle, let alone the shame of pretending to be one, but nothing came out of his mouth. Instead, he kept his silver eyes locked at the front of the Great Hall.

"There are clauses enclosed in this Restoration and Magical Retention Act—"

"Marriage law!" yelled Ginny. At the glaring eyes of Headmistress McGonagall and the impatient ones of the Minister, she tersely added, "call it by what it really is at least. You're marrying us off under this law."

"First," continued Kingsley, turning to address the students agreeing in whispers with Ginny Weasley, "from this day on, you will have a year to wed. We are aware you are currently in school, but Headmistress McGonagall will provide a timeline of available dates to consider. Secondly, for all those subjected to this law who are members of the LGBTQ community, the Ministry sees you. You will not be forced into heterosexual marriages for the sake of reproduction. More of what this law requires from you after the sorting, however. And lastly, if you fail to comply with the law, the Ministry has developed a potion capable of suppressing magic. If you do decide to not proceed with this sorting, you will be administered this potion, your wand will be confiscated, and you will not be allowed to remain within the British Wizarding community."

"What—come on!" Theodore Nott growled from his row. "You can't do that! The Ministry has no right to strip us of our magic! It is inhumane!"

"So was losing millions of our people in a needless war for supremacy," said a Hufflepuff witch nearest the furious Slytherin. "But here we are, trying to rebuild despite all of that. So aid in helping improve this world, Nott, or hand over your wand."

Despite the looming despair over them, students near the two managed to laugh at Nott's shocked expression that was quickly withering away like he had been submerged in a cauldron full of love (lust) potion. 

"Hogwarts will be providing you with a Marriage and Family Life course to help transition you," Kingsley continued. "These classes begin this afternoon. You will not be graded by standard marks, but you will need to pass this course by the end of the year. If your instructor thinks you have not learned anything about the mechanics of understanding your new spouse, then you shall continue taking the course even after the marriage has been solidified. Classes outside Hogwarts will be monitored by the Ministry and will require further counseling sessions."

"Merlin," groaned Neville from his seat beside Seamus. "There's homework on how to be married? I've got Advanced Potions this term. I'm going to be stretched thin."

"You have got it all wrong, Longbottom," Pansy Parkinson laughed from her place behind the two Gryffindors. "You can't learn this from a book. Marriage is a shitstorm when it's an arranged one. Why else do you think we all have terrible home-lives? Our parents hate each other."

"Or are related," said Tracy Davies with a cringe that reflected off other students. 

"The sorting will start now," the Headmistress announced as Kingsley stepped aside, giving her the attention of the miserable students in front of them. "Before we proceed, this goes without saying: no vulgar remarks or acts of violence will be tolerated during or after the sorting. Keep in mind that the sorting hat was indeed created for the purpose of knowing where a person belongs—or, in this case, whom they belong with."

Harry reached for Ginny's hand, squeezing tight as she narrowed her blue eyes at the hat on top of the stool.

"To all girls bound to this new law: I will call your name, you will come forward, and your spouse will join you," said McGonagall just as Kingsley conjured a scroll of parchment from thin air. As he unraveled it, the first person she called for was Hannah Abbot.

The Hufflepuff girl paled in a manner that made Hermione recall their first time in the Great Hall, back when they were wide-eyed, terrified children about to be sorted into their Houses. Alike that time, Hannah slowly walked toward McGonagall, her hands shaking the entire time.

Soon as Kingsley set the sorting hat on her head, it came to life and shouted, "Neville Longbottom!"

Everyone turned to the newfound hero. Neville gawked back at Hannah, no intent to stand from his seat apparent in his shocked features. 

"Mate," Seamus muttered, slapping him hard on the shoulder. "It's not so bad."

"'Course it's not bad," Neville breathed out, "it's brilliant!" As he stood, grinning, making Hannah do just the same (just before she started growing pink with worry that she had completely misread all the signs building throughout the years between them). "To think I was waiting for the courage to tell her I was mad for her, but now I get to skip that awkward part and just marry her."

Seamus looked at him like he lost all his quaffles, but their other friends smiled and clapped for the new couple. They even let out happy noises when he took Hannah by the hand, helping her off the stool with a massive smile on both their blushing faces. 

"Cho Chang," called the Headmistress next.

Ginny stilled in her seat, a flush of red glowing under her pale cheeks as the Ravenclaw made way to the front of the room.

"I know what you're going to say," Ginny muttered to Hermione soon as she leaned over, placing a hand on her knee that crossed over Harry's lap, too. "Women should not be pitied against each other because of men. And I'm not going to hate her for her past with Harry. I'm just going to burn this place down if she ends up engaged to him."

"It's not what I was going to say," Hermione whispered back, "and it's not going to happen, either. Cho was a wreck when she and Harry were together, remember? She was struggling with the same things he was struggling with. And the thing is, both of them needed people who not only could understand them but could challenge them to live. They're just not that for each other."

"I'm literally right here," Harry huffed at his best friend and his girlfriend. "Please don't dissect my relationship with Cho right now."

Hermione was about to offer him an apology, but the sorting hat exclaimed, "Blaise Zabini!"

Right behind Hermione and the other proud Gryffindors, the chosen Slytherin uncrossed his arms. A long second passed before he even realized that he had been called. When he had, he stood, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pristine, crisp robes. 

"Not bad," he said to Draco and the other Slytherins staring at him for a reaction. "Definitely could have been worse. I could have ended up with Millicent Bullstrode—no offense, Millie, but, you know, you absolutely terrify me, and not in any of the ways I fancy."

"Oh fuck," grumbled a few Slytherin boys, the idea suddenly dawning on them that they might end up with the one girl in their House that has definitely beat them senseless so many times throughout the years. 

Blaise laughed maliciously as he walked off to join Cho Chang where she now stood. With his every approaching step, she looked like she truly believed the sorting hat had done her an unforgivable wrong. 

Hermione squeezed Ginny's knee, smiling with hope, but the latter was no longer paying attention. She was busy crossing off Cho's name from her list of potential people she could lose Harry to. 

Speaking of the she-devil herself, Millicent Bullstrode was called upon next. As she stomped her way up to the front, the same frightened Slytherins huddled together, praying to whatever wizard Gods they worshipped to be in their favor. Copying them, other boys from other Houses starting doing the same.

The honor of being Millicent Bullstrode's husband belonged to Ernie Macmillan. 

A loud, chorusing sound of relief filled the Great Hall. 

"Merlin, please no," Ernie cried, sinking further down his seat, practically hiding under the bench. "She dunked my head into Moaning Myrtle's toilet yesterday night. This can't be right."

"It probably meant she fancies you," a fellow Hufflepuff told Ernie, grabbing him by the back of his robes to pull him up and then push him towards Millicent (whom people swore was blushing).

"Luna Lovegood," called the Headmistress next, rendering the previous noise inside the Great Hall silent.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny turned in their seats, scouting past the heads of other students to find their eccentric, kind friend. Slowly, the three began to realize they had actually had not seen her on the way to the Great Hall.

When McGonagall called for her again, murmurs of speculation broke out.

"She ran for it! I knew it," Pavarti Patil said to the girls around her. "Padma told me Lovegood had been missing from breakfast this morning, too. It's obvious she's the only one mad enough to run away. Probably on a thestral or something. Poor girl. Does she not know this might be her only chance at a—Ow!"

"I will tear all of your long, pretty hair out, Patil," Ginny warned as the older girl let out a squeak, rubbing her head from the impact a rock had made with it (it was actually a ball of parchment Ginny had enchanted with added weight, courtesy of Fleur's weekly letter). "One more word against my best friend, and you'll regret it. Non-violently, of course," she added when McGonagall cleared her throat at her.

Hermione turned to Harry. "She wouldn't, right?"

"Of course not," Ginny was the one to answer. "Luna does not run away from things."

As to prove Ginny Weasley right, the doors of the Great Hall opened. In marched Filch, his grip on the back of Luna's robes. "Look who I found roaming the gardens, Headmistress."

"Miss Lovegood," McGonagall frowned at Luna's bright, sweet smile, "care to explain why you were on the grounds when you were specifically ordered by the Ministry to join your classmates for this sorting?"

"I was drawing the hippogriffs Hagrid is using for his lesson today, Headmistress," explained Luna, pointing at the notebook in Filch's free, wrinkled hand. "They did turn out quite good. I might enter them for the art exhibit this year."

Students snickered or snorted at the Ravenclaw just as McGonagall tried to process how to even react to her. With a small shake of her head, the Headmistress said, "Come forward, Miss Lovegood. It is your turn to be sorted."

While Ginny smirked at Luna, Harry did not share the same amusement as her or the others. He had that glint in his eye that Hermione could decipher from miles away—that need to protect those he loved, putting his life up as a shield to protect them. It was not lost to Hermione or anyone that he adored Luna like she was a younger sister; it made that look in his emerald eyes even darker when he found out what she had endured at the hands of Death Eaters before they met in Malfoy Manor. Since then, Harry had sworn he would never let anything gray Luna's sun. 

While he wondered how he could save her from this law, the sorting hat shouted, "Dean Thomas!"

Then there was ease in Harry's heart (there were only a few blokes he thought to be true and kind, and Dean was definitely one of those).

Dean blinked slowly, uncertainty creeping up on his features just as Seamus spilled air through his teeth, clucking his tongue. "Sorry, mate."

"Oh, shut up, Seamus," Dean shoved his friend back as he stood, a grin growing on his lips. "Hey, Luna," he called out, raising a hand, waving it as if she could not spot him from all the other students in the Great Hall, "we're together!"

Luna looked away from the notebook McGonagall had demanded from Filch. "That's nice," she told him, smiling radiantly. "You'll like the technique I used on the hippogriffs, Dean. I took your advice. Come look," she motioned him over at the same time she extended her hand out to the headmistress, her smile asking for her belongings as politely as possible.

Dean practically ran to her, pulling her into a massive, tight hug. 

"Does he—?"

"Yeah," Ginny nodded, answering Seamus' question before he could finish it. "For months now."

Seamus was inquiring just how exactly she knew that Dean fancied Luna when Lavender Brown was called upon next. He swallowed his question down, narrowing his eyes as the blonde girl smoothed out her skirt, smirked wide at her fellow classmates, and catwalk-ed to the front of the hall. 

"Bloody hell," groaned Harry, "please don't let it be Ron. Haven't we suffered enough when they were together?"

"Didn't I suffer enough when that happened?" Ron muttered with a snort. 

Fate had other intentions for Lavender Brown. And those connected her to Seamus Finnegan.

"Yes!" cheered Lavender as she leaped off the stool, throwing the sorting hat at the Minister in the process. "I win! Me! I get that stupid Irish tosser!" she yelled at a huddle of Ravenclaw girls, all of them staring back at her like she had lost her mind. 

Seamus groaned, his palms colliding with his face. 

"Up here, Finnegan," Lavender commanded with her smirk. 

Pavarti kicked Seamus on the hip, her foot pushing him off the bench so he could make his way over to her best friend. He did so, groaning more and sluggishly walking to take his place beside Lavender. 

The laughter that sprouted at Seamus' sour expression died when the Headmistress read Ginny's name from the list. 

She paled in her seat, her back growing stiff as her hand searched for Harry's. He was quick to lace their fingers together, squeezing tight as if they could combine their hope and courage to make something concrete and invincible. 

Without saying anything, Harry pulled Ginny's knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to them before she stood. The Great Hall watched in silence as she raised her chin and marched to the sorting hat. 

"I'm okay," Harry murmured to Ron and Hermione now, his green eyes fixed on his girlfriend. "I trust that sorting hat."

Long ago Destiny had made her choice to whom Ginny Weasley was fated for. Loud and clear, the sorting hat let the rest of the world know it was Harry Potter who would have her heart.

An explosion of applause and cheers broke out for the couple. Harry stood, his cheeks turning pink with elation, and made his way to Ginny. 

With the weight of fear off of her shoulders now, Ginny turned to Kingsley, "Sorry about the whole murder plot. It was nothing personal, you know."

Kingsley quickly patted Harry on the back when he approached, taking Ginny's hand in his. "Comes with the job, doesn't it, the death threats?"

"We don't blame you for this," Harry told him, his voice lowering in volume as if to speak to Kingsley the friend and not the Minister of Magic. "It isn't right, but it isn't your doing, either. I hope that helps make these sorting sessions easier."

Kingsley nodded at the two, saying nothing further as they made their way over to Dean and Luna. 

When Pansy Parkinson's name was called next, the proud Slytherin witch looked nowhere as arrogant, confident, or amused as all thought her to be. She instead took a moment to collect her thoughts, managing her breathing before she stood from her seat on the bench.

"You still got me, Pans," Theodore Nott said to her, raising two thumbs up.

"That's really not comforting for anyone, Nott," she scoffed at him before marching forward. 

The Great Hall watched as she yanked the sorting hat from McGonagall, practically shoving it all the way down to her chin. 

In whispers, students were taking bets as to which Slytherin's name would be called out for Parkinson, so no one was paying attention when the sorting hat yelled out Ronald Weasley's name.

Hermione let out a gasp that acted as the catalyst for silence. One by one, students began to turn to the sorting hat, brows raised in confusion as to what it had said. 

"Weasley?" muttered Pansy after it truly dawned at her. "Are you fucking joking right now? I can't have Weasley. This bloody rag is wrong. Do it again!"

McGonagall took the sorting hat from on top of Pansy's head. "The hat is never wrong, Miss Parkinson. You and Mr. Weasley are suitable for marriage."

"You don't understand," Pansy hissed, standing from the stool, "I will kill myself right now if you don't give me a re-do!"

"Then please do so on your own time, Miss Parkinson. Until then, please join the rest of the couples on that side. And, Mr. Weasley, please join her, too," McGonagall turned to Ron, gesturing at Pansy with hard, impatient eyes.

Hermione turned to her best friend thinking she would find the same disgusted, infuriated look that Pansy had, but instead he was void of any emotions. He just stood from his place next to her, barely missing her hand reaching out to touch him, and headed for Pansy. 

She barely had any time to process what had just occurred when Hermione's name was called next. Alike Pansy Parkinson had done, Hermione did not instantly stand. She let out a harsh, terrified breath caught in her throat, turning to her right to see what students remained behind. If Ron had been rightly suited for marriage with Pansy, then who would be suitable for her? Ron was gone—Harry, too. Those were the only boys she had ever loved more than herself (one as a romantic interest and the other as her brother), she did not have deep, unbreakable connections with anyone else. 

With a hand moving to her chest, Hermione allowed herself to peek at Cormac Mclaggen. She shuddered at the thought that his persistent, longing, devouring intentions might have been signs for something more than disdain from her part. When he winked at her, Hermione instantly turned from him, standing and heading for her sorting.

When McGonagall carefully placed the hat on her head and Kingsley tried to offer her a supportive smile, Hermione held her breath. 

She would rather steal Seamus right from under Lavender than to marry Cormac. For goodness sake, she really would rather marry Gregory Goyle than Cormac.

Just as she started chanting this in her head, her eyes moved to scan for Goyle in the crowd, but instead found herself frozen in a pool of silver. Hermione felt like she was drowning in them, her air thinning out in her lungs when she found something warm in their usually narrowed, icy manner. It was a small spark, but she thought that maybe, if he allowed himself to be vulnerable and happy, then it could turn to a wildfire. It could turn to something beautiful.

It was then that it happened.

"Draco Malfoy!" shouted the sorting hat. 

Sharp sounds of shock pierced through the thick silence in the Great Hall. Ron even broke out of his trance to turn to look at Hermione, his blue eyes growing terrified and bewildered just as Harry and Ginny's were. 

Malfoy moved back a centimeter, his head slowly shaking. "Fuck my life," he muttered—low words practically a scream in the silence that had taken over the room.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall called. 

"I'm going—I think I might..." Hermione slid off the stool, her cheek colliding with the cold, marble floor. She heard Harry shout her name, Ginny running toward her, but darkness was coming for her.

She was legally engaged to Draco Malfoy.

Fuck her life indeed.