The Blood Status Equalization Act

The new marriage law from Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt has sent shockwaves through the wizarding world!

By Arnold Hammich | Daily Prophet Correspondent | October 2nd, 2000

In a shocking move that has already divided the wizarding public, the Ministry of Magic officially passed the Blood Status Equalization Act late Sunday evening, legally requiring all unmarried witches and wizards between the ages of 18 and 25 to marry an assigned partner of a different blood status. Ministry officials claim the new law is intended to heal divisions left behind by the war and encourage unity between pureblood, halfblood, and muggle-born families following Voldemort’s defeat.

Couples will be selected through a secret system of compatibility, with refusal carrying severe penalties including loss of employment, restricted wand privileges, and possible imprisonment for repeated noncompliance. The law has already sparked outrage among younger witches and wizards, many of whom fought in the war themselves. The only individuals who may be exempt from the act are unmarried couples who have been in established relationships for longer than six months and successfully apply for a special consideration license from the Office of Civil Integration and Compliance.

According to ministry officials, assigned pairings will be delivered by owl on October 5th, 2000. Public reaction has already been swift and deeply divided, with protests forming inside the ministry early Monday morning.

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By the time Harrie reached the ministry atrium, the place was already in chaos. Hundreds of witches and wizards were packed shoulder to shoulder across the black tiled floor, shouting over one another as security officers tried and failed to maintain order.

She stopped just inside the entrance, slipping behind a marble pillar off to the side. Harrie knew that the announcement wouldn't go over well, but she didn't think it would get this bad. 

Another wave of shouting rolled through the atrium as someone recognized a member of the Wizengamot near the lifts and they all scrambled to stop them from getting back inside. The shift in crowd gave her the chance to slip further into the halls, her leather gloves creaking as she flexed her wand in her hand. The lobby to the ministry offices were blocked off with two heavy set guards, but thankfully she recognized one of them right away. 

"Sawley, I need to get through." She called out as she approached, glancing over her shoulder at the distracted crowd. 

"Sorry." He replied with a gruff tone. "Can't help, Potter... nobody can come through unless they've been given clearance."  

“I have clearance.” She shot him a glare. "I work here." 

“You aren't on the schedule today so I can't grant you entry." 

She scoffed under her breath. "Are you fucking serious? You can't just keep me from going inside!" 

“Rules are rules.” Sawley shrugged, though he looked uncomfortable saying it.

Harrie stared at him in disbelief. She understood that the man was in a tough spot, but so was literally everyone else in her position. “Look, I just need five minutes with Shacklebolt. I'm not going to hex him or do anything crazy, I just want to talk." 

“No exceptions.” The other guard, a bearded man grumbled. "Step back or you'll be issued a citation for loitering." 

Harrie actually laughed at that. "Really? Loitering? Fine... then I suppose if Shacklebolt won’t talk to me, maybe I should talk to the press instead.” She glanced back toward the atrium where reporters were still circling like vultures to get feedback on the new law. “I bet they’d love to hear what a war hero thinks about forced marriage.”

Sawley and the other guard shared a nervous glance. 

"Potter... let's not do anything rash." 

“Oh, you mean like assigning hundreds of people spouses without their consent?” Harrie shot back. 

Another roar erupted behind them, louder this time, followed by several cracks of magic firing off in rapid succession. All three of them turned instinctively to the noise... a massive enchanted banner of Shacklebolt hanging above the fountain had caught the brunt of someone’s temper. Bright streaks of red slammed into the fabric one after another, tearing jagged holes straight through his smiling face.

The crowd actually cheered for it. 

The ministry had spent two years trying to convince everyone that things were finally stabilizing after the war and now, overnight, they’d managed to turn the entire country hostile again. Idiots.

Sawley lowered his voice, his tone suddenly anxious. "You said five minutes?" 

Harrie looked back. "Yes. That's all I need, I promise." 

The man heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine... just go. Quickly before those reporters see you."  

"Are you mad, Sawley?" The other guard gaped. 

"Potter is only going to draw more attention... besides, she ain't gonna kill the man." He said before turning a suspicious eye to Harrie. "Right?" 

She smiled sweetly as she held up her gloved hands in surrender. "No violence, just verbal abuse." 

“So, this is what happens when politicians get bored!" She said cheerfully as she walked closer, stopping at the empty receptionist's desk. "You know, I always knew that you would bring new ideas to the ministry, but wow... forced marriages? Very creative work, Kingsley." 

The man flinched at her voice and spun around. Harrie could see the sweat misting his temple as he looked toward the door, no doubt worried a crowd of protestors might be following close behind. 

"Auror Potter... I am not taking visitors!"

“That’s alright, I didn’t come for tea.” She deadpanned, crossing her arms. "Just tell me, are me and my friends included in this insane law you've decided to put out?" 

Kingsley swallowed hard. Up close, he looked terrible... sunken beneath the dim lights, dark circles carved beneath his eyes, the lines around his mouth deeper than she'd ever seen. “I am not going to disclose private assignment details to the public." He said carefully, voice trembling slightly with nerves. “You may wait until letters are sent out on Thursday.”

“I helped rebuild this bloody ministry, Shacklebolt, I have the right to know if you're planning to force me into marriage!”

Another roar echoed from the atrium below, followed by the unmistakable sound of smashing.

Kingsley visibly tensed.

Harrie clicked her tongue unsympathetically. “That one sounded expensive.”

An exhausted sigh left Shacklebolt's mouth as he looked back at her, his defenses slowly crumbling. "Listen, Potter... I cannot provide you special treatment anymore. My advisors believe that exempting you from the law would undermine public faith. The ministry is unstable right now and people want reassurance that the law applies equally. If exceptions start being made for public figures the people will revolt!" 

"What do you think is happening downstairs?" Harrie snapped. "You are playing matchmaker and ruining lives!" 

"Oh, spare me the lecture.” He waved his hand dismissively as he paced. "I am doing a service to the world. We lost so many lives in the final battle and there are still echoes of pureblood elitism spreading throughout every corner of society... I am providing a long term solution to completely eradicate blood supremacy!" 

"By forcing young purebloods to have mixed blood children?" 

"It is integration." He replied firmly. "It is about rebuilding a new generation that will prevent another Voldemort from happening." 

“You cannot breed prejudice out of people, Kingsley!" 

“And what would you suggest I do instead?” He shot back, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Do you want another war in twenty years, Potter? Do you want another generation being raised to believe that muggle-born wizards should die?”

"There are other solutions!" Harrie raised her voice. "You jumped to the most extreme possibility without a care for those that are affected by it! What about us? What happens to the people trapped in these marriages while you build your perfect future?” She demanded to know. “What happens when they hate each other? What happens when people are miserable?”

“People survived arranged marriages for centuries.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Harrie screamed, her voice echoing through the lobby before falling away. But that anger drained out of her faster than she expected, leaving fear behind as she stared at the man she once considered wise. "I... I thought that you were one of the good ones, Kingsley. I thought that you would make this a better place." 

"Harrie..." 

“You know that I can’t be married." She muttered, broken. She hated how desperate her voice became but she couldn't stop the fear from bleeding into it. "You know that I can’t... I can’t touch... sk-sk..."

“Skin.” Kingsley finished quietly. “Yes. I’m very aware of that fact... but as deeply as I care about you as a person, Harriet, the time has come to move past this little aversion of yours." 

Harrie recoiled slightly. 

"You’re twenty years old." He went on softly. "Voldemort is gone, you've graduated school, you have a budding career... it’s time to grow up. Starting with this marriage. And rest assured, the matchmaking process was rigorous. I have selected a wonderful husband for you." 

A wave of panic washed over Harrie as she listened... so she really was getting married off to someone. Sold like livestock to a pureblood man. For one horrible moment, all she could picture was a cold manor and some stranger reaching out for her without permission. A husband expecting affection she physically could not give him. Expectations. Children. A life she had never agreed to... she wanted to ask who it was, but she couldn’t bear hearing the answer because knowing would make it feel too real. 

“Will Ron and Hermione at least be together?” She asked instead, her voice thick with grief. 

Kingsley looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t recall specific pairings.”

"They've been dating for four months." She pressed on. "They don't have the same blood status so there's no reason to separate them." 

“They don’t meet the six month requirement.” He replied smoothly. 

Harrie stared back at him in disbelief. “They helped end the war... without them, I never would've taken down Voldemort. If you won’t grant us clemency, then at least give us a say in who we have to spend our lives with!”

“You do not get to make demands of me, Potter!” Kingsley said sharply, turning on her with fury. “I have already bent rules for you and your friends. I made Weasley an auror without a completed seventh year, I helped Granger secure her position without the recommended experience, and I haven’t fired you for not being able to perform basic duties of your job without wearing gloves!” 

Harrie scoffed low, the betrayal of his words hitting deep. “Hermione’s experience was hunting horcruxes across Europe for seven months and Ron was promised that job before you were elected, so don’t you dare pretend you did him a favor! And... I... I can still do things. Just because I can’t touch people doesn’t make me bad at my job.” 

“I never claimed that you were bad at your job, but you do receive a fair bit of special treatment that I wouldn’t afford others.” 

“Because I wear gloves?” 

“Because you do not seek pursuit." Kingsley clarified. "You let your fellow officers do the hard work while you stand back and file paperwork." 

“I have done enough fighting for a lifetime." She argued, crossing her arms. "And if I need to, I can make an arrest." 

That made Shacklebolt snort. 

"You don't think I can?" She narrowed her eyes. "I can manage touching others if I have to, I'm not completely incapable." 

Kingsley exhaled slowly and took a few steps closer... crossing the room. Harrie tensed as she stayed still. It wasn’t sudden, that was the worst part. There was no violence or aggression in his movements, he was simply trying to prove a point and they both knew it. 

When he stood a step away, he lifted his bare finger and brushed it against the tip of Harrie's nose. 

Squishy. 

Wet.

Sweaty.

Large hands gripping too hard around her shoulders, fingers swiping over her stomach. 

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

Harrie retched so hard her eyes watered. She stumbled backward into the receptionist desk, one gloved hand clamped tightly over her mouth while the other scrubbed frantically at the tip of her nose through the leather.

Kingsley lowered his hand slowly and pulled out his wand. "Scourgify.”

“That is the special treatment I afford you, Potter.” Kingsley said calmly, giving her a look of pity. “I have allowed you to remain one of the highest ranking officers in your department despite reactions like that whenever someone touches your skin." 

She wiped at her mouth with the back of her glove, chin trembling despite her effort to stop it. “And... and how exactly do you think it’s going to work when you force me into a marriage? When you force me to be intimate with someone?" 

“You will adapt." He replied simply. "I know that you are capable of great change, Harrie." 

“You really believe that?” She scoffed, her hand drifting absently along her sleeve in slow strokes. Petting herself was one of the only things that consistently calmed her down, and the fact that she was doing it in front of Kingsley without even realizing only proved her point. Adapting was impossible.

"Love does wonderful things to people." He smiled gently. "It will take time, but I believe that you will find a way to manage." 

Harrie looked at him for a long moment, trying to reconcile the man standing in front of her with the one she’d trusted during the war... she just couldn’t do it. Kingsley was too far gone, corrupted by power and fear of another uprising. Somewhere along the way he stopped seeing people as people and started seeing them as tools for a better version of society, and he didn't care how he achieved it. 

“The assignments go out in three days." He said, giving her a final nod of his head. "Good luck." 

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Ron and Hermione’s flat was still full of unpacked boxes. They had only moved in together three weeks ago, back when the marriage law had still sounded like rumor and political nonsense that would never actually pass. Now it sat between them on the coffee table in the form of three cream colored envelopes stamped with the ministry seal.

Harrie sat in the armchair opposite the couch, staring down at the letters with a knot in her stomach. The moment hers arrived this morning, she shoved it into her pocket and trudged through the rain to get here. Living in Diagon Alley had its benefits, but the biggest one was that she was only a three minute walk from being at their little apartment above the joke shop. George had moved out once he got married, and he was nice enough to offer it to Ron when he decided to take his relationship with Hermione to the next level. 

If only that had happened two months earlier than it did. 

“Well, who wants to go first?” He asked after a few minutes of tense silence. His arm was casually draped over Hermione, but the tension in his fingers were apparent by how they gripped her shoulder in a protective hold. 

Hermione didn’t hesitate to reply. “Harrie should go first... you’re the bravest one here." 

“That’s not true.” She muttered, still staring at the envelopes. “I’m just the one used to getting bad news.”

“Exactly.” Ron said with a weak attempt at a grin. “So, go on. Open it up." 

She almost argued with him. Not because she wanted one of them to go first, but because the second any of those letters opened, things would change permanently. Right now there was still the blessing of uncertainty, which somehow felt safer than the truth... but Ron and Hermione were both watching her now, delaying their own fear by pushing hers forward first. So, she relented and picked up the envelope addressed to her, breaking the seal. 

Ministry of Magic

Department of Magical Law and Enforcement

Office of Civil Integration and Compliance

To: Harriet Lily Potter

Blood Status: Half

Current Occupation: Auror, Rank II (Tactical Response Unit)

In accordance with the Blood Status Equalization Act, you are hereby notified of your assigned marital pairing. You are required to attend the ministry mass wedding ceremony on October 7th, 2000 @ 5:00 PM.

Failure to comply with this directive will result in an automatic warrant for arrest and the suspension of all wand privileges pending detainment.

Assigned Spouse: Neville Franklin Longbottom

Blood Status: Pure

Current Occupation: Auror, Rank II (Dark Artifact Neutralization Unit)

Compliance is mandatory. Signed,

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic

Harrie lowered the letter with a strange feeling of numbness. "It's... Neville." 

Hermione immediately let out a breath she’d clearly been holding, one hand pressing against her chest. “Oh, thank goodness... that’s wonderful news, Harrie, he's such a sweetheart!”

“Yeah.” Ron agreed, trying hard to sound encouraging. “Longbottom is a good match for you. He’d never force himself on you or anything.”

Hermione elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Ow! What?” Ron hissed.

“That is a horrible thing to say!”

“It was supposed to be reassuring!”

“Harrie doesn’t need a reminder about the kind of situation she’s being forced into, Ronald!” Hermione snapped.

She felt oddly calm as she listened to Ron and Hermione bicker back and forth. 

Harrie enjoyed being around Neville... he was very nice. She’d seen him a handful of times at work, passing in corridors or across briefing rooms. Their paths never really crossed anymore though. She and Ron chased people. High level criminals, former death eaters, potion smugglers. Their department handled the raids and arrests. Neville’s unit handled what came after... cursed object containment, dark artifacts, ancient wards left behind in abandoned manors. It suited him somehow, he had always been very careful with dangerous things like plants or snakes.

And now, apparently... her. 

Ron admitted defeat with a heavy sigh. "Alright, alight. I didn't mean to sound like a prick, I just meant that Neville is a good person... honestly he's the best match for Harrie outside of me."  

"Gross." Harrie winced.

He gave her an offended look. "What?... I would never touch you, mate, I'd be your dream man!"  

"Yeah, but you'd constantly cheat on me with Hermione."

That made her chuckle softly on the couch, her cheeks pinking slightly. “Well actually, there’s a failsafe to prevent infidelity. Once the marriages are finalized, there’ll be a magically binding attachment to each couple that will prevent cheating from happening magically. Apparently if you try, the bond makes you violently sick before anything can actually happen and you'll be sent an automatic fine of 10,000 galleons."  

"Fucking hell." Harrie blinked. "How do you even know that?"  

"I read the entire Blood Status Equalization Act." She replied simply. "It's only 94 pages, it wasn't that complicated."  

Ron looked marginally paler as his leg bounced with anticipation. Quickly, he leaned forward and snatched his envelope from the coffee table. "Alright, well I'm not going to be able to relax until I open this and see your name, love."  

"Wait!" Hermione protested, her eyes going wide. "You're just going to... open it? I mean... what if my name isn't on there? I... I don't think I'm ready to face that yet."  

He shook his head, tearing the seal. "It has to be you. It will be you, Hermione. You're the only woman that I want to spend me life with." 

She instantly broke into tears as she watched him unfold the letter with shaky hands, terrified out of her mind. 

Ron cleared his throat as he began reading. “In accordance with the Blood Status Equalization Act, you are hereby notified of your assigned marital pairing...” His eyes scanned lower. “Failure to comply blah, blah, blah. Assigned spouse...”

He froze.

The color drained from his face so quickly that Harrie wondered if he might black out. For several seconds he just stared at the paper like he couldn’t understand what he was reading... then his eyes lifted slowly toward Hermione, wide and horrified.

“I’m so sorry." He whispered quietly.

Hermione made a small broken sound in the back of her throat. "What?! No. No... please.”

“Who is it?” Harrie asked, that feeling of numbness deepening into complete horror. 

Ron swallowed hard, his eyes glassy. “It’s... um... Parvati Patil.”

Hermione’s face crumpled instantly. Ron moved without thinking, grabbing her face in both hands and pulling her into a desperate kiss like he could somehow stop this from happening if he held onto her tightly enough.

“I’m sorry." He kept whispering against her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Hermione, I’m sorry, love." 

She was crying too hard to answer properly.

Harrie sat frozen in the armchair across from them, her chest tightening painfully as she watched them cling to each other like it was the end of the world.

Maybe it was.

Three weeks ago they’d moved in... Hermione had spent an entire evening organizing their bookshelf while Ron complained but helped anyway. They’d argued over whose turn it was to buy groceries, over where to hang framed photographs, over whether Crookshanks was allowed on the kitchen counters. They were building a beautiful life together and suddenly, it was ripped away. 

Hermione let out a small, watery laugh. “They’ll ruin you.”

“I don’t care.”

She shook her head. “Well, I do. Ron, I can't let you throw away your career for me... I can't let you get thrown in Azkaban for loving me."  

“You think I can survive this?” He asked hoarsely. "Watching you marry someone that isn't me?" 

Hermione pressed her forehead against hers, both of them shaking now.

“We’ll figure something out." He said desperately. "We can run away, Hermione. We can go somewhere safe and get new identities. We can just... run. Leave everything behind and never look back." 

"No." Harrie frowned, feeling her heart sink. "What about your family, Ron? You can't abandon your parents after what happened." 

“Harrie is right.” Hermione whispered, sniffling hard as she wiped at her face. “We can’t just run away together... the ministry would come after us eventually and even if they didn’t find us... your family would spend the rest of their lives wondering if you were alive.”

Ron looked miserable. His eyes shut briefly before finding the last letter sitting on the coffee table between them. The room immediately went tense all over again. Slowly, he reached forward and picked it up with visibly shaking hands. "Open it... I want to know what lucky bastard gets to spend his life with the woman I love." 

Hermione made a soft, wounded sound beside him. “Ron...”

“No, I mean it.” His voice cracked slightly. “I want to know who the ministry thinks deserves you more than I do.”

The pain in his face was unbearable to look at... Harrie tried to take a slow breath, but it caught painfully halfway through as Hermione broke the seal with trembling fingers. The sound made her stop and look up. 

"Oh, Harrie..." 

Ron looked over too and swore softly, moving automatically to their bedroom. He returned a moment later with a thick blanket and carefully draped it over her shoulders without touching her, just like he used to do when they were in school together. 

Harrie knew that she was trapped in a panic attack. 

Usually it only happened when she was forced into situations that made her feel trapped or exposed for too long. Crowded rooms she couldn’t easily escape from, press conferences where dozens of strangers got too close trying to shake her hand and thank her for defeating Voldemort. And apparently... watching her two best friends get ripped apart by the government triggered the exact same feeling of helplessness. 

Her chest felt painfully tight, every breath catching before she could fully pull it in. The room sounded distant and too loud at the same time, Hermione’s crying blurring together with the rain against the windows and the pounding of Harrie’s own heartbeat.

She hated this feeling.

"Look at me." Ron muttered as he knelt in front of her, keeping his distance. "Count my freckles. Do you remember doing that when we were kids?" 

Harrie nodded softly and let her eyes focus on the speckling dots that covered Ron's nose and cheeks. Counting always helped for some reason. The heavy blanket helped too, it felt like a hug without being touched... though, truthfully, Harrie wasn’t entirely sure what a hug was supposed to feel like. Maybe pressure without suffocation or warmth without panic.

Hermione had gone quiet on the couch now, watching them both with tears still slipping silently down her face.

After a few minutes, Harrie managed a deep lungful of air... the relief felt like surfacing after being held underwater too long.

"Sorry." She gasped out, finally breathing again. 

"It's okay, mate. You're good." Ron said gently before moving back to the couch with Hermione. He wrapped an arm around her automatically before glancing down at the final unopened letter still sitting in her lap. "Alright... let’s send her into another panic attack and read that one.”

Ron snatched the letter from where it had fallen and scanned it rapidly, his expression darkening line by line. "No... NO!" 

The paper fell again as he ran, following Hermione into the bedroom. Through the walls, Harrie could hear Hermione sobbing so violently it barely sounded human anymore. Ron was trying to calm her down, his voice muffled and frantic, but Hermione was practically screaming now, too overwhelmed to hear any of it.

It sounded like hell in the form of heartbreak. 

Harrie’s heart hammered painfully in her ears as she slowly bent down and picked up the discarded letter from the floor.

Ministry of Magic

Department of Magical Law and Enforcement

Office of Civil Integration and Compliance

To: Hermione Jean Granger 

Blood Status: Muggle-born

Current Occupation: Deputy Director, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

In accordance with the Blood Status Equalization Act, you are hereby notified of your assigned marital pairing. You are required to attend the ministry mass wedding ceremony on October 7th, 2000 @ 5:00 PM.

Failure to comply with this directive will result in an automatic warrant for arrest and the suspension of all wand privileges pending detainment.

Assigned Spouse: Draco Lucius Malfoy

Blood Status: Pure

Current Occupation: Probationary Clerk, Wizengamot Administrative Office

Compliance is mandatory. Signed,

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic

Harrie lowered the parchment slowly as rage slammed into her so hard it almost made her dizzy.

Kingsley did this on purpose, there was no other explanation... Ron and Hermione had been together publicly for months. They lived together, worked together, everyone at the ministry knew they were together! And somehow, out of every possible witch in Britain, Hermione Granger had been handed to Draco fucking Malfoy?

Harrie couldn't stand there anymore... she had to go confront him. 

She yanked her coat on and apparated straight to the ministry, stumbling headfirst into the atrium. It was roaring with outrage, noise slamming in from all sides as people rioted. It was somehow even worse than days before when the new law was announced. 

People were sobbing and screaming, smashing ministry property with bursts of magic while security wards flared violently overhead trying to contain the damage. There was a witch that was on her knees in front of a Wizengamot member shrieking that she already had children with a man she wasn't married to... one man begged helplessly that he was in love with another man and needed to be spared from this law. Someone else had collapsed onto the floor clutching their assignment letter in both hands like it was a death sentence, screaming for mercy. 

Aurors were dragging people out by force now... Harrie recognized several of them from her own department, their faces grim and exhausted as they wrestled furious civilians toward the holding corridors. 

Sawley stood guarding the office hallways again, his expression tried and sorrowful. Harrie marched over to him, dodging people that got in her way.

"Sawley, let me through!" She demanded, though her tone was still broken and clipped. 

"It's no use, Potter." He replied. "Shacklebolt isn't here."

"What?!" 

The older man sighed wearily. “He was moved into protective custody this morning. I'm just trying to keep people from wrecking his office." 

Harrie scoffed incredulously. "Are you kidding me? He can’t just disappear after dropping something like this!" 

Sawley rubbed a hand over his face. "I have been awake for almost thirty hours, Potter... do I look like I'm kidding?" 

Behind them, another burst of shouting erupted across the atrium as two aurors wrestled a screaming wizard away from the lifts.

“Every holding cell on level two is full." He said flatly. “Three aurors have been seriously injured, someone set fire to the records office, and half the Wizengamot is demanding emergency security escorts because they're all getting death threats." 

Harrie stared at him, speechless for a moment. 

Despite everything happening around them, Sawley let out a slow chuckle. "Oh, and who might that be?" 

"Draco Malfoy. His office is on the fourth floor, isn't it?" 

"Aye." Sawley nodded and moved aside. “Remember, no violence. I don't want the paperwork." 

Harrie gave a distracted nod before striding down the corridor, boots striking against the marble floors while her mind raced fast enough to make her feel sick. Hermione was probably still curled in Ron's arms back at their flat... unable to fathom a future with a former death eater. If Harrie couldn't speak her mind to the Minister or Magic, the next best thing was to do it to her best friend's new husband. 

The fourth floor was quieter than the atrium below, but only barely. Ministry employees crowded the corridors whispering anxiously to one another while owls darted overhead carrying frantic letters. Nobody stopped her, most people took one look at her expression and moved out of the way.

Harrie reached Draco’s office and shoved the door open without knocking.

Malfoy was sitting lazily with his leather shoes on the desk and a glass of amber liquid in one hand. Frankly... he looked horrible. His pale hair had fallen messily out of place, his eyes were lined red, and several ministry memos were scattered across his desk untouched.

“Are you seriously getting drunk right now?” Harrie asked flatly as she slammed the door behind her. 

Draco huffed a laugh into his glass. “Ah. Potter... I was wondering how long it would take before you came looking for someone to blame.”

“You look very comfortable for someone who just got handed a government issued marriage.” She bit out, taking a few steps closer, but stopping when the smell of whiskey grew too strong. 

Malfoy scoffed and looked down at the surface of his desk... on top of the stack of memos was his marriage assignment with Hermione's named inked across it in black letters. 

"Would you prefer I barged into private offices and yell at innocent people?" He asked dryly, finishing his glass in one sip. 

Harrie felt her anger burn in her chest as she watched him act so nonchalant. "You knew, didn't you? You asked for it." 

"Are you mental?" Draco scoffed, sitting up taller. "You think I wanted this... wanted her?" 

"I think you benefit from marrying Hermione." She replied through gritted teeth. "Former azkaban death eater paired to a muggle-born war hero? Very good optics for someone on probation.”

Something sharp flashed across his face as he slammed his glass down. "I fetch files and copy minutes for the Wizengamot. You think I have enough power to influence my own marriage?" 

"Yeah. I do." Harrie snapped. "You spent a year in prison and somehow managed this job, clearly you have many friends in high places." 

Draco actually laughed at that. “I got this job because McGonagall threatened to publicly rip apart the Wizengamot if they blacklisted every former Slytherin connected to the war... I’m not secretly controlling ministry policy from the filing department, you idiot." 

Harrie faltered slightly.

"Believe it or not, Potter, this is just as much of a punishment for me." He looked down at the letter again, his brows tensing. "If I refuse to marry Granger then I'll be in violation of my probation. They paired me to someone that will ruin my life on purpose!" 

"What are you talking about?" She narrowed her eyes. "How would Hermione ruin your life?" 

Draco stared back at her like the answer was obvious. "Did you even read the Blood Status Equalization Act? All it would take is for Granger to say that she feels unsafe around me and the ministry would find a reason to accuse me of spousal abuse and throw me back in a cell beside my father.”

“Hermione would never lie about something like that. Unlike you, she's a good person." 

That made him scoff and look away. 

“It wouldn’t exactly be a lie.” He muttered quietly, almost bitter. “Granger doesn’t feel safe around me. I saw her in the lift a few weeks ago and she ran out on the wrong floor just to get away from me." 

Harrie frowned. She remembered Hermione telling her about that after it happened. At the time she tried to play it off as being stupid or emotional, but Harrie knew the truth... she was having flashbacks of being in the manor while Bellatrix carved at her skin. Even now through the cloud of alcohol, there was a faint scent on Malfoy that reminded Harrie of his family's home... it was almost eerie how it clung to him like a natural scent. 

Though, she supposed all of the Weasleys carried a faint cinnamon smell that was warm and cozy. Maybe it wasn't that unusual for the Malfoys to smell like polished oak and balsam. The smell in that elevator that day must've been so concentrated that Hermione forgot where she was for a moment. 

“Not exactly a healthy foundation for marriage.” Mused Draco softly before he looked back up at Harrie. "It's only a matter of time before she reports me for something." 

Harrie remained silent for a moment, wondering if Hermione would ever do such a thing. The answer came instantly... no. Hermione could be terrifying when angry, but she wasn’t cruel. Even after everything with the war, she’d still been the main one arguing for rehabilitation programs and reduced sentences for the Slytherin students that stood by their families. It occurred to Harrie at that exact moment that was why Kingsley decided to do this to her... he wanted to punish her for being so outspoken during all of the trials. Thanks to Hermione, several Slytherins escaped with less than twelve months in prison, Draco included. 

What better way to pay her back for going against him? 

Draco slowly filled up his glass of whiskey again, taking a big gulp. “So… tell me, what lucky pureblood got chained to you, Potter?”  

Harrie didn’t answer right away.

She came in ready to scream, maybe throw a few things at his arrogant face... but somehow her anger had burned itself out as she stood across his desk, watching him drown himself in liquor at the idea of marrying her best friend. He looked truly pitiful. 

“Neville Longbottom." She finally answered, deciding that she hated the ministry more than him. 

Draco instantly snorted out a laugh. 

Harrie narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?" 

He shrugged and took another sip. “It’s ironic. That’s all.” 

“Excuse me?”  

Malfoy actually grinned. "Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors about him. He’s a bloody rake… he sleeps with so many women, it’s actually impressive." 

"What?" Harrie felt her stomach swoosh unpleasantly. "There's no way... Neville is not some womanizer, he's too nice." 

“Womanizer?” Draco repeated thoughtfully. “No. Slut? Absolutely.”

“Malfoy..." 

“I’m serious.” He pointed lazily with his glass. “I can name at least nine women off the top of my head he’s slept with... I also know for a fact he had a threesome with some barmaid in Knockturn Alley a few months ago with Theo. Plus, he shagged Pansy in my bed during my Christmas party last year and broke my bloody headboard. Took me ages to fix." 

“You’re lying.” Harrie whispered, shaking her head. “Neville... Neville is sweet. He wouldn’t just sleep around with random women.”

"Sweet men can still have sex drives, Potter.” He replied with a laugh. "And trust me, his is quite impressive." 

"How would you even know that?!" She asked hotly, her fingers balling into fists.

"You really had no idea?" Malfoy asked, smirking faintly. 

"I don't keep up with what other people do in their private time." Harrie replied bitterly. 

Draco hummed, seemingly bored. “Well, you have nothing to worry about... Longbottom is loyal, trained to heel. He's the perfect little accessory for the Chosen One.”

“Oh, fuck you.” 

"Fuck him, actually." He snorted into his glass before draining it again. "Poor bloke is about to enter celibacy chained to you."  

"What did you just say?" Harrie snapped, pulling out her wand. 

Malfoy didn't even flinch. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I supposed to pretend you don't have some weird thing about people touching you?" 

Her stomach dropped as she stared back at him. "How... how the hell do you even know about that?" 

Draco quirked a brow up, clearly too tipsy to play coy. “Do you remember third year when I shoved you and Weasley into a broom cupboard and locked the door? You threw up.”

Harrie’s face burned hot with humiliation at the memory. There wasn't enough space in that small closet to breathe... when she felt Ron's face brush against hers she completely lost it and vomited all over the front of his robes while Draco laughed outside the door like a complete psychopath.

“And at the Yule Ball in fourth year...” He went on, clearly unable to help himself now that he’d started. “McGonagall forced you to dance with Finnegan for the champions’ opening thing and you blacked out in front of everyone." 

“Shut up.”

"I'm not mocking you." He added, sounding annoyingly sincere. "I’m just saying Longbottom already knows. Everyone who works here does." He looked pointedly at the gloves covering her hands. “You think people haven’t noticed you're always wearing those? They assume you have some phobia of germs, but I always wagered it was more about physical contact."  

Harrie looked down at her own hands, flexing the dark leather. Heat crept up the back of her neck as the horrible realization began sinking in. She hadn’t realized it was that obvious... did her coworkers notice the way she never shook hands? Did they notice that she preferred taking the stairs instead of cramming into a lift?  

"Can I ask why?" Draco said suddenly, tilting his head. "I've always been curious." 

Harrie immediately stiffened. “No.”

“Fair enough. Personally, I used to think it was because of fame or something... people always crowding you for autographs." 

“That’s not it.” She admitted softly before she could think better of it. 

Draco studied her quietly for a second before speaking again. “Someone hurt you.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No.” He agreed surprisingly easily. “But for what it’s worth... I always thought it was strange that nobody did anything about it.”

“What?”

“At Hogwarts... the teachers had to have noticed something was wrong. A child reacting to touch like they’ve caught the plague isn’t exactly subtle.”  

"You almost sound sorry for me, Malfoy." 

"No." He shook his head. “I just think it's interesting that so many adults failed." 

“It’s the closest thing to comfort you’re getting for a long time.” 

Harrie frowned and turned toward the door, hating how true that seemed. Hating how she was standing there conversing with Draco Malfoy of all people as if they were on good terms. The gloves on her hands suddenly felt too tight as she reached the door handle... and worse, a small, awful part of her kept replaying what he’d said about Neville. 

"Malfoy...” She spoke without looking back.

“Yes?”

“If you make this harder for Hermione than it already is, I will spend every waking minute of the rest of my life trying to put you back in a cell.” She promised, her voice dark. 

A beat of silence passed.

“Noted.”