Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Law
"Have you found anything, Auror Granger?"
Hermione frowned and tucked her wand back into the quickdraw holster on her forearm. "No. Whoever's been breaking in is very good at cleaning traces."
The owner of Flourish and Blotts, William, mirrored her frown, and Hermione felt frustration well inside her chest. Four break-ins at Diagon over the past month, clean and meticulous. No money was stolen, just a few items from various stores. First, the Apothecary had some various ingredients stolen. Quality Quidditch Supplies reported a broom and Bludger, and just last week, Scribbulus Writing Shoppe was missing a Quick Quotes Quill when they reported their robbery.
Now they had broken into Flourish and Blotts, but Hermione had yet to discover what they had stolen. The front window had been shattered, the inside destroyed. Hermione now knew what they needed the Bludger for. While they hadn't bothered to clean up the physical evidence, they were certainly getting better at cleaning up their magical aura. No doubt they knew the Auror Office was investigating them.
Closing her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath and forced her mind blank. She was thankful that she had taught herself Occlumency while Harry was learning from Snape; it certainly came in handy for more than just walling off Legilimens. In moments like this, where she needed to hyper-focus, she could centre her mind and magic, place a wall around herself. It was like hitting the reset button on her emotions.
Hermione let out her breath and flicked her wrist, shooting her wand into her hand from the holster. Waving it in a quick circle, she sent out another trace spell, looking for any small hint of the magical aura she'd found at that first break-in. She stepped forward, walking between the stacks, following an odd sense of yes, this is the right way.
"Auror Granger?"
Hermione could see it as her trace spell washed over it—the faintest speckle of magic across a shelf with a hole just big enough for a missing book. "What book was here?"
William came forward, Accioing an inventory book as he found the shelf number. His finger ran down the page and stopped toward the bottom; a confused look glanced over his face.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"How to Befriend Thestrals. That book should be there; no one's purchased it. Do you think they stole it?"
Hermione pulled her extended bag around and stuffed her arm in, grabbing a vial and swab. "Possibly." She moved the swab over the essence on the wood, sliding it into the vial. Once she was back at the office, she could match it to the one from the first break-in. Though, Hermione already knew it was the same person. Their methods and motives were identical, but she knew she needed as much evidence as possible for when she finally caught whoever this was.
"Why?"
Hermione scowled. "I haven't figured that part out yet."
Tucking the vial safely into her bag, Hermione started as a sudden bright white light rushed by her, transforming to the familiar large stag of Harry's Patronus.
"Come back to the office immediately, Hermione." His rushed voice spoke through the stag. "Emergency."
Hermione had more investigating she needed to do—much more. But Harry sounded in trouble, and she could never let her best friend and Auror partner down. Plus, an emergency at the Ministry sounded worse than an emergency in the field.
"I'll be back this afternoon," Hermione told William. "Keep the store closed until then, and don't let anyone else in or out."
She walked around and cast a quick Stasis charm on everything she could, praying that it would keep until she could return later. Damn Harry for making her come back; it better be a real emergency.
Hermione Apparated inside the broom closet, narrowly missing a bucket of dirty water. She wrinkled her nose and stepped around it as she pulled the door open and checked to make sure it was vacant. No one but Aurors and the Minister had access to Apparate directly inside the Ministry; it was a closely guarded secret.
The closet was located in a private hall off the Atrium, and the closer Hermione got to the centre of the Atrium, the more concerned she became. Raised voices and stomping feet sounded from all sides, and she stopped at the edge of the hall in shocked silence.
What the hell was happening? It was proper anarchy; people raced about in a frenzy, shoving others' left and right, screaming, and panicked as if a war had just been announced. Wait—had a war just been announced?
Hermione spotted Padma in the crowd, weaving her way through people to the lifts. Padma worked for the Department of Magical Transportation, so more than likely, she had no clue what was happening, but Hermione followed her anyway.
"Padma!" Hermione called just as the former Ravenclaw pushed through the crowd into the packed lift. She turned and waved hello to Hermione as she approached. "Do you know what's going on?"
"Not a clue!" Padma replied, stepping aside and making space so Hermione could squeeze in.
Hermione did, and overwhelming nausea crawled up her throat at the packed, small space. Breathe, Hermione, she reminded herself as everyone pushed against her. No one here will hurt you.
Padma didn't notice Hermione nearly on the verge of a panic attack as she glanced around and spotted someone she knew. "Jacobs! Jacobs! What's happened?"
An older man looked over at them with a solemn face. "The Minister just passed a law."
Okay. That was normal, right? Ministers passed laws all the time; Kingsley was no different. But unlike them, he was good. He had helped rebuild society after Voldemort. The lift lurched up and sideways, stopping at the fifth floor. Hermione took a deep breath of fresh air as the remaining occupants spread out.
"What kind of law?" Hermione asked.
"A marriage law."
Padma grabbed Hermione's arm for support as the lifts shifted again to the next floor. "What kind of law is that?"
The door slid open, and Jacobs stepped off. "Depends on how you look at it, I suppose." Padma went with him, leaving Hermione alone with a few others. She could hear them discuss the law, and Hermione desperately wished she could go with them to learn more. This had to be why Harry had called her back to the Ministry; maybe he had some insight.
Hermione's brain raced with possibilities as the lift deposited her on level two. She walked back to the Auror department, barely registering familiar faces brush by her.
"Where have you been!?" Harry snapped as Hermione stepped into their shared office. They'd been Auror partners for three years now, and Hermione dreaded the day Harry was finally promoted to Head Auror. She'd have to find another partner, and she hated everyone except Harry. "Did you go into the field alone again?"
Hermione sat at her desk across from his and pulled out the vial, the swab inside still faintly glowing with the small bit of activated magical essence. "I got here early, and another robbery was reported in Diagon; I had to go."
"You could've waited for me," Harry replied, and unable to help himself, asked, "What shop?"
"Flourish and Blotts. They stole How to Befriend a Thestral, and I can't figure out why."
Harry waved her off, "It can wait; we need to talk."
"About the marriage law?" Hermione glanced up after placing the vial safely in her desk drawer. "It's insanity upstairs, Harry. What's going on? What do you know?"
"Not much," Harry sighed. "Kingsley didn't even tell anyone, just announced it to the world in a damned article this morning." He picked a copy of the Daily Prophet up from his desk and handed it across.
Hermione snatched the paper from his hand. In her rage-fueled haste, the corner ripped, but she was too focused on the article to care. "Those of an unwed status must report to the Department of Mysteries no later than noon, Friday? That's two days, Harry! Two! This is downright fucked!"
Harry bent over and rested his forehead on his desk. Hermione clamped her jaw shut and put a leash on her anger. While she was enraged at the news, Harry was panicking. No doubt he worried about being paired with a woman, and just after having the courage to come out to the public, too.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, reaching over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll get this sorted—"
"Oi! Granger, Potter!" Dean Thomas, fellow Auror, called as he knocked on the door. "Minister memo came for you." Dean opened the door and walked inside, giving a sad glance to Harry, who refused to look up from the desk. He handed the note to Hermione. "Here."
"Thanks, he'll be alright," Hermione assured him. She quickly opened the note and read the few words on it. "Kingsley wants us in his office ASAP, Harry."
Harry sighed and sat up, raking his hand through his ever-messy hair. "Great. At least I don't have to wait till Friday to be straightened out."
Dean snorted at the poor joke, and Hermione cut him a glare as they left. She and Harry took the Auror's private lift to avoid whatever the hell was happening to the public ones. They were silent for most of the ride, both nervous and curious, but also forlorn. What did a marriage law even mean? Why enact it? Sure, many of her friends and peers weren't married yet, but they were only twenty-three! There was plenty of time for all that.
Apparently, Kingsley seemed to disagree.
His receptionist Doris let them right in, and Kingsley gave them a warm smile as they entered his large, ornate office. Plush purple velvet lined the floors, and gold fabric draped across the walls, embroidered with geometric patterns. Portraits of past Ministers lined the walls; they all stared at her and Harry with curiosity, as they always did. The Golden Trio were famous even to paintings.
"Good morning," Kingsley greeted as Hermione and Harry sat in velvet upholstered chairs across from his massive walnut desk. Hermione and Harry's shared office always felt like a shoebox after being in here.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, not wasting any time. Pleasantries were useless to her; she wanted information.
Kingsley gave her a strained smile and sighed, leaning back in his leather wingback chair. He was used to Hermione's direct attitude. "Something is happening to our magic."
"That's specific," Harry sarcastically stated, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, Kingsley, we need more than that."
Kingsley held up a placating hand, "I will tell you what I can. To put it plainly, our magic is dwindling—has been dwindling for years. And we've finally discovered why."
Hermione's heart leapt while Kingsley Accio'd a stack of papers from a nearby wooden file cabinet. He set them on the desk to face Hermione and Harry so they could read their words.
"The Unspeakables have been researching this since Minister Leach in the sixties. They never stopped, even during both Wars. And a few months ago, they finally figured out the cause and how to combat everything. Read what I have, and you'll understand."
The papers before them were pages upon pages of their research. Decades-old, disproven thesis's, failed experiments. The pages flipped automatically and stopped at the beginning of a research paper stamped with April 2001, six months ago. Hermione quickly scanned it with Harry, her heart racing faster and faster with each word.
According to this research, every magical being had a perfect match—a soul mate. Only a specific spell could reveal said match, with confirmation shown in their magical auras. The spell fell out of favour when Purebloods were matched more and more often with Muggleborns. Due to the growing political climate—Purebloods wanting to remain pure—the spell was all but lost, scratched out of nearly every copy of every book it had ever been listed in.
Since this was the only way to find them, decades upon decades of ill-matched marriages and relationships caused people to be unable to draw upon magic to their full potential. With incompatible magical cores, there was nothing to strengthen it, so it limited the community as a whole. Over time, magic dwindled and dwindled, and now it threatened to disappear altogether—the rising birth rates of Squibs showed physical evidence toward this theory.
Hermione's stomach soured. She knew that auras were unique to each person; she exploited that fact daily for her job—auras were just as good as a fingerprint. So, she understood the importance of the research proving that there could be a match.
"You can't deny the evidence."
No, she couldn't; it was right there in black and white. She could see the time and effort that went into each experiment and conclusion. "How does the marriage law combat this?"
"We match compatible cores together and perform a ritual that binds them. It will strengthen their core, thus combating the dwindling magic."
"And children? Will you require them? Will you only match opposite genders? What about the LGBTQ community?"
Kingsley held up a hand to Hermione's tirade of questions. "We will not force people to have children, though it will be highly encouraged if possible, nor be forced into heterosexual relationships. The ritual will provide them with their perfect match, preferences and all."
"How do you know that?"
"Because we've already tested it, twice. And it matched two women together, so trust me when I say that we know."
Hermione was impressed, to say the least. They wouldn't be forced to have children, thankfully. But... sexual preferences aside, they were still being forcibly bonded to someone.
"What if they don't like each other? What if they're paired with someone who isn't a good person?"
Kingsley sighed, "We have measures in place for things like that. I can see your gears turning, Hermione, but I'm sorry. You can't reverse the law; it needs to happen." Kingsley returned to whatever he'd been working on before they arrived. "Now, why don't you both head down to the Department of Mysteries and get started. Failure to do so by Friday at noon will result in disciplinary action."
Hermione curled her hands into tight fists as her stomach rolled. She wanted to scream, wanted to demand this be stopped. But Kingsley's office door opened, and his receptionist ushered them out before she could do more than suck in a breath.
"You're to go to the Love Room in the DoM," Doris said, sliding into her chair and giving Hermione and Harry a sweet smile. "Have a good day."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, a silent message passing between them. What the absolute fuck?
They moved toward the main lifts, and Harry bounced from one foot to the other as they waited. "Okay. Okay, so now what?"
Hermione chewed her thumb and thought. They could skip going to the DoM today; they had till Friday, right? That was two days away. Plenty of time to figure out what could be done to stop this.
But what could they do? Kingsley had been resolute in the law being good for everyone, and despite the unjustness, she couldn't deny the research. If their magic really was running out, then was it right for Hermione to try and stop it?
"You're having doubts, aren't you?" Harry asked.
Hermione sighed. Harry had always known her better than anyone. "If what Kingsley said is true, within the next fifty years, Squib rates will be a one-in-three chance and it will only get worse. It doesn't matter if both people are Pureblood; if their magic is incompatible, they face the same issues. Our magic isn't infinite; it's a well inside all of us that's filled by a shared lake. We take and replenish in a never-ending cycle, and that cycle has been unbalanced for centuries."
The lift arrived with a ding; the doors slid open.
Hermione and Harry stepped inside, and she leant against the back wall, exhausted. "Their research suggests that we're not taking enough, that the centuries of incompatible matches have made unstable magic and weakened our abilities to draw from that lake. And finding our perfect match will magically solve everything." They both smiled tightly at her joke.
"So," Harry started. "What you're saying is if we do this, we'll be bettering our community. And if we don't, it'll be like a giant middle finger to everyone."
Hermione sighed. "That about sums it up."
"What if—" Harry started, "Shit, what if we're matched with someone from... the other side?"
Hermione chewed her thumb. "Surely he can't force us to stay in a relationship, right?"
The silence answered what Hermione already knew. By passing the law, he already had.
The lift descended to floor nine before it slid to a halt. The doors opened to that large, black marble entrance of the Department of Mysteries. Hermione took a steeling breath against the sudden anxiety she felt and led Harry out of the elevator.
"I still think it's bloody ridiculous and an absolute abuse of power," Hermione muttered to Harry as they approached the singular door at the far end of the room. Beyond it lay the Entrance Room. "But if future generations will suffer because of me, I won't be able to live with myself."
Harry was close behind her. "And here I thought you'd given up on politics."
Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the door, her hands trembling with nerves. Being down here terrified her, and with Harry at her heels, she knew he felt the same. This place was where she'd been cursed and scarred, where they battled Death Eaters, where Sirius died...
"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, yes?" An elderly man with messy white hair and patchwork clothing greeted them. The circles under his wrinkled eyes were so dark it looked like he hadn't slept in years. He sat in a small wooden chair in the centre of the room, where black marble covered everything—even the spread of doors across the curved wall. Hermione pushed away the oppressive feeling surrounding her, but she still huddled closer to Harry's side for reassurance.
"Yes, Sir," Harry replied. "We're supposed to report to the—"
"To the Love Room, yes, yes," The man cut off with an annoyed tone, ushering Harry and Hermione further into the circular room."We know why you're here, come."
He stood on creaking knees and slowly led them to the door at the centre back wall, the stone sliding open as he approached. Hermione and Harry followed close behind him, eager to be out of the Entrance Room.
What they found beyond was not what either of them expected.
The black marble turned white, a stark white like the colour of undisturbed snow. It was streaked with a kaleidoscope of colours that reflected against the soft candlelight. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over Hermione, and she could tell Harry felt it too by the soft sigh he let out.
The man led through a small waiting room, then a wide hall, then finally to a room at the end. The white marble followed them the entire way, as did the tranquil feeling surrounding them.
Hermione knew very little about the Department of Mysteries and nearly nothing about the Love Room. There were very few public records about what went on behind these closed marble doors. Question after question caught on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to know what the marble was made out of, if it was imbued with magic or had charms placed upon it. What were those streaks of colour made from? What exactly did they do down here?
"Unspeakable Brown." A striking-looking woman greeted the older man with a polite smile. Her cheekbones were sharp, and her eyes dark and piercing as they took in Hermione and Harry. "Aurors Potter and Granger; how lovely. The Minister just sent me a memo to tell me of your arrival. And what luck, you'll both be the first to go since the announcement was made."
It was meant to be reassuring, but it only made Hermione's stomach twist in knots. "What, exactly, is it that we'll be doing?"
"Follow me. We'll take the scenic route; the general public aren't allowed back here, but I thought you'd both like to see it." The woman led them down a hall; past desks piled high with Love Notes, bottles of Amortentia, and miniature cauldrons. Hermione caught wafts of the faint tellings of her Amortentia scents; grass, spearmint, and parchment. It surrounded her and made her head a bit fuzzy.
"I'm Unspeakable Jin, the lead researcher for the Match program," Jin continued, leading them down another hall, this one lined with doors with charmed glass. The figures on the opposite side came out warped to keep the secrets that lay beyond. They walked to the very back, stopping at the second to last door.
Jin rested her hand on the doorknob for a moment; Hermione guessed it was reading her magical signature as a type of security lock. Brilliant. The door swung open silently, revealing a circular room lit only by faintly glowing candles.
"To begin, we will take your wands from you and ask you to perform a spell," Jin instructed as Hermione and Harry stepped inside. The door closed behind her with a faint click. "This spell will allow your magical core to become tangible, touchable. We will then take a very tiny sample of it, and once we collect a sample that's a match, you'll be notified by owl," She looked quite proud. "It's all very quick and non-invasive."
"What do you do with the sample once the match is found?" Hermione asked.
Jin plastered a sweet smile on her face, one that Hermione could instantly tell was practised. "I'm afraid that's classified, but I can assure you they will not be used for nefarious purposes."
"But they will be used for something?"
"I'm afraid that's classified."
Hermione felt irritation well in her chest. This was exactly why she could never be an Unspeakable; Hermione believed nothing should be kept confidential like this.
"I'll go first," Harry piped up, pulling his wand from his holster and handing it to Jin. "Let's get this over with."
"Thank you, Auror Potter," she gave that practised smile again. "Auror Granger, your wand too, please."
Hermione frowned. “Why do you need it?”
“The wands interfere with the spell. It has to be conjured wandlessly,” Jin replied simply. Hermione was sure she’d have a ready answer to anything.
Trepidation curdled in her stomach. It made her nervous to know that the Ministry would have everyone's magical core signatures. It felt like an invasion of privacy. But, Hermione knew that this was good, that what they were doing was good. She faintly smelled cut grass again, bits of Amortentia wafting through the crack in the door. That familiar euphoric feeling washed over her again, and she no longer felt upset about handing over her wand.
Her wand snapped free from her forearm holster, and she dropped it into Jin's hand. Two Unspeakables that she didn't recognise suddenly appeared from the shadows; one ushered Harry toward the centre of the room, and the other led Hermione to stand against the far wall.
The Unspeakable whispered something to Harry and stepped away. Harry looked around in awkward confusion before clearing his throat and holding his hands out in a cupping gesture. "Creoanima Comperi Sodalis."
Light poured from his chest, swirling around to form a bright green glowing ball in his hands. Hermione's mouth popped open in stunned surprise, and Harry's eyes widened as he let out a startled "Shit!" It was nearly impossible to look at it was so bright; Hermione squinted against the blinding light.
The Unspeakable that helped Harry came forward, waving a multi-coloured glass vial through it to collect a bit of the light. He gestured for Harry to push his hands back against his chest. Harry followed directions, the light—his magical core—reabsorbing into his body.
Hermione was speechless.
"This way," The Unspeakable beside Hermione muttered. Hermione followed her to take Harry's place in the centre of the room. "Cup your hands in front of you, say the spell Creoanima Comperi Sodalis. Focus on producing your magical core into your hands."
She stepped away, and Hermione took a deep breath, copying what Harry had done with her hands. Closing her eyes, she said, "Creoanima Comperi Sodalis." Conjure my soul; find my mate.
Just like Harry's, Hermione's core came from the centre of her chest. But unlike his, it glowed a brilliant, bright orange—it was like staring directly into the sun. Hermione snapped her eyes shut against its flare as it poured into her hands, and warmth spread across her palms.
"I'm taking a small sample," The Unspeakable's voice came from in front of her. "You can put your core back; slowly press your hands to your chest."
Hermione could see the light fade behind her eyelids, plunging them back into the faintly candlelit space. She cracked her eyes open and rubbed them, her hands still warm and tingling. Harry came up beside her, his presence reassuring her instantly. She felt odd, like she'd removed a vital organ and put it back in. Nothing seemed real. Was she dreaming?
Ouch! No—Hermione rubbed the sore spot on her arm where she forcibly pinched it—no, she was very much awake.
"Thank you, you're both done," Jin said, stepping forward and handing them back their wands. "You'll receive an owl no later than Monday."
"Thanks..." Harry muttered. They followed Jin out the door and back down the hall. Unspeakable Brown still waited for them in the department's lobby room. He grunted in greeting and turned, hobbling back to the Entrance Room. A sick feeling began to crawl in her stomach as the scent of her Amortentia faded.
"Have a wonderful day," Jin called out.
Hermione wanted to vomit. What had they just done?
The walk back to the lifts seemed to go by quicker, and before Hermione knew it, they were alone. She no longer felt any of the serenity from earlier.
"Harry, what just happened?"
Harry swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I think we just agreed to a Ministry-run dating service to save our magic."