All rights belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing...and keeping Snape alive...

I hope to update weekly. But don't hold me to it!

The owl landed in the middle of the breakfast table. With the flutter of soft, silent wings and a rather arrogant hoot, it strutted down the wide table towards Hermione. A heavy sheaf of letters trailed behind it.

"Expecting something?" Ron quickly moved a rack of toast and a butter dish from the bird's path. It hooted again and clicked its beak. Dark eyes fixed on him, and found him...lacking. "Stupid bird," he muttered as Hermione grinned.

"You've been judged, Ron."

"Ha, ha."

His face twisted, a splotch of red darkening his cheeks and Hermione held back a wince. Another day of soothing his ego spread out before her. Focusing on the outstretched leg of the arrogant little owl broke into her rising sourness.

The bird nipped at the edge of her plate and she cut a strip of bacon. "Pushy little thing, aren't you?" Her reply was a hoot and a brief butt of its silk soft head against her palm, before it turned, batted its wings at Ron and soared out of the kitchen window of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Even owls are having a go now." Ron pushed his plate away, scraped back his chair and clambered to his feet. "I need to pack." And with that, he left her alone in the kitchen with her bundle of letters.

Hermione pinched at the bridge of her nose and let the heavy and wearied sigh escape her. The war against Voldemort was over, had been for four months now. A stack of quiet days followed that didn't revolve around fear and death. A new time where she didn't have to watch her thoughts, her words...a time when she thought her life could begin again.

But, as usual, she expected too much. When had her life ever been simple or easy? And Ron was the prime example. Finally, finally she'd succeeded in getting him to see her as more than his bushy haired and brainy friend and they'd snatched a kiss in the midst of battle. Something sweet and just that little bit wild...

She touched her lips at the memory, a small smile ticking up her mouth for a brief moment. Her smile fell away. And on the very same day, she'd driven a wedge between them that Ron could simply not ignore. Eventually two wedges. She'd saved Professor Severus Snape. And received the Order of Merlin for it. First Class. That last one bit Ron in the arse more than anything.

Oh, she'd clung to the idea of them still being together after the Snape debacle, but when Kingsley awarded her the wizarding world's highest honour-compared to Ron's Second Class-any thought Ron had of a future with her died.

It had been a long and miserable week with the medal burning a hole in her knicker drawer.

Crookshanks rubbed against her shins and she reached down to scratch his ugly, orange head. "You still love me, don't you, Crooks?" His machine gun purr deepened, causing her to smile and the constriction to ease around her heart. "Love you too."

She dropped the last of her bacon to the floor for him to snack on, wiped her hands and turned her attention back to the letters.

They were stacked together and tied with a Ministry seal. Hermione frowned, her fingertip stroking over the heavy 'M'. They would leave for Hogwarts in the morning, bound to spend the autumn term there on an accelerated NEWTs course. Were the letters to do with that?

She broke the seal and the first letter unfurled itself. An officious, female voice cut the air, "Miss Hermione Granger-"

Hermione wrapped a muffliato around herself, the flick of her wand second nature. A wry smile twisted her mouth. It wasn't necessary. Only Harry and Ron were upstairs-the Weasley tribe returning to a rebuilt Burrow-packing or in Ron's case, sulking. Still, she left the spell in place.

"-You are here by notified, that in accordance with the new law ratified today, you are now compelled to accept one of the attached tenders."

She blinked. Her mouth opened, shut, opened again and still her voice failed her. She drew in a thick breath. "New law? What new law?"

The letter couldn't answer her, but it did continue. "Details as follows. You, Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class, time-turner influenced 19, pupil of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, have been found compatible with no less than 20 wizards. Congratulations!

"Please choose and sign one of the proposals at your earliest convenience. You have 30 days before a decision will be made for you.

"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials! Margerat Greenbowl. Junior Minister for Wizarding Marriages." With a crackling flourish the letter refolded itself and plopped back to the table.

Hermione stared at it. Had that really just happened? Was it real? Her hand shook as she separated the pile of other letters -the tenders- that had come with the Ministry document. Each envelope was stamped with a muted crest, a pale brown against the yellow of the parchment. Compatible wizards? What the hell was going on?

Another owl swooped in and dropped a rolled copy of the Daily Prophet into her lap, soaring away before she could blink. Automatic fingers pulled it apart and she gaped at the headline. What on earth had the wizarding world been doing whilst she'd been enjoying a quiet summer?

Marriage Law passed unanimously by Wizengamot

She skimmed the article, hardly able to take in the insanity. The war and inadequate birthrates, the rise of squibs and stillbirths. The fear of the disappearance of magic. Leading to a law that planned to harness muggleborn-her-ovaries for the good of wizardkind.

She sank back onto her seat, her heart thudding, the front page of the Prophet glaring at her. Kingsley's serious face and the grim features of the colleagues surrounding him, mocked her. She'd fallen into another dimension. That had to be the answer. Fallen into a world that had taken complete leave of its senses.

They wanted her to choose a husband in the next thirty days? She glared at the pile of letters, hating every single one of them.

Like hell she would!

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