Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

This story is a multi-pair marriage fic, it will have some drama, some humor... The pairings, you shall find out, will be three... but which ones?

Hermione knew that sneaking around the emergency stairs at the Ministry was not something that she had to do. The traces of dust and tiny cobwebs in the corners were proof that even houses elves that kept the buildings squeaky clean slacked off when it came to places no one frequented. It made her smiled. She loved house elves and all magical creatures. They were just so set in their ways and predictable.

And predictability was just what she needed after the war and the aftermath. Participating in various Death Eater trials was draining. She knew more about all the ancient and noble families that were involved into the war than she would have ever wanted. The rebuilding efforts also didn't make her enthusiasm soar, so it was clear that when she announced that she wanted to leave the country to do research on magical creatures the public outcry was massive, some even branded her a coward for shirking her supposed duty as a veteran for something easy and useless.

Kingsley, however, had absolutely understood her mindset. The ministry had limited funds, and it was not possible to send her further than Ireland for two months or let her join a German researcher group to categorize the garden gnome tribes of Bavaria. Her heart wasn't really longing for Ireland, as there nearly all creatures were well known. Same for the German offer as they had described everything about their magical creatures in neat, tedious detail.

She really wanted to see Italy, France and Spain as their creature worlds were only briefly described and there was just so much to see. Trouble was money. Her veteran pension would be just enough to camp out in the wild and get food. Camping was something that she didn't want to repeat again so soon.

And then help had come from the most unlikely side. Lucius Malfoy, who was pardoned for his part in limiting the damage of Voldemort's rein, had offered her to stay in his family's holiday homes, for as long as she would like, claiming that it was the least he could do.

And so she had taken the offer, with a good bit of worry and only returned today, three years later. Maybe it was really the lure of the creatures. Or maybe finesse of surroundings, the exquisite meals provided by the house elves and the decadence in everything, from finest Egyptian cotton sheets on her bed to the stunning architecture of the houses that Malfoy had branded as ''modest holiday homes''.

She knew that she couldn't stay in the lap of easy luxury forever and as there was less and less new to research about the local creatures, she had to return. She always had a room waiting at Grimmauld place, but it seemed so basic in comparison to what she had become used to. Harry had preserved her room there was if she had been gone just for a few days, only a stack of new books on the night stand giving away the slightest of changes. Kreacher's rather tough steak and watery potatoes made for last night's dinner that she had to enjoy alone because Harry was away on important business made her want to cry and think of her favorite elf ever, Mama Rosa from Malfoy's Italian villa. The elf was feisty and bossy, but Hermione still loved her, as it was the first elf ever to wield a kitchen knife in her face and ranting off a barrage of other threats while explaining the ways of the house elf life.

''Hermione, my dear, it's so good to see you!'' the cheerful voice of Arthur Weasley startled her. It was nice to see the man, he was after all, akin to a father to her in the wizarding world, and however, she just wanted a little bit of solitude in her office to collect her thoughts. He now held a rather high post in the Ministry as Special Advisor on Magical and Muggle Liaisons, so his office was in the better parts of the Ministry, unlike the offices of Magical Creature Regulations that held little importance in the Ministry.

''You do look fabulous, my dear if I can say so!'' he continued.

''Thank you, Arthur. You look very dapper too.'' The muggle suit he was wearing should have been a size or maybe even two sizes bigger to fit his rotund shape. For a moment, she felt a bit self conscious thinking about her own outfit. The reason why her now-favorite elf had had to yield a knife in her face was that Malfoys had peculiar hosting traditions. On the second day in Italy, the elf had presented her with a chocolate brown leather backpack that bore her name on a gold plate on the front flap. Hermione had refused to take it, claiming that she had a perfectly fine bag to pack lunch in and the elf exploded in anger.

The rant, most of it in fluent Italian, went on about how Hermione was disrespecting the host by not accepting the reasonable offer of a lunch bag. Hermione tried to interject, in the weak conversational Italian she had learned from phrasebooks, but the elf only stopped the rant and knife pointing when she agreed to take the bag. Hermione had thought in vain that it was just the only overly-generous offer from her host, but ever so slowly, her clothes began to disappear. One by one, her worn but reasonable, by her own standard, clothes were replaced by designer wares. The moment the first new garment appeared, she asked the elves where her things were, and a trio of elves began a tearful chorus about how her cardigan had first shrunk in the wash and then caught fire when it was drying by the stove. The elves said that they will smash their hands in the oven doors or do any punishment she deemed appropriate because they had failed to replace her cardigan properly.

Grudgingly, Hermione had said that the replacement was fine and had penned a concerned note to the Malfoy patriarch. The reply was rather curt, telling her that it was just in line with good manners to provide a guest with clothes when the need arose, and that no guest in his estates would have to worry about such things and that as far as he knew, she preferred muggle clothing instead of traditional wizarding robes so she had been provided for according to her tastes. The replacement was a muggle cardigan, but a rather feather light and supremely warm Lanvin piece of knitwear that she would have never bought for herself due the astronomical price tag.

Eventually, she could not escape the new things that kept popping up in her rooms. The elves had become obsessed with Vogue, Vanity Fair and Cosmopolitan magazines and if she saw something in a magazine and even dared to think that she liked it, the thing would appear in her room. The elves claimed that all the muggleness was so pretty. And now she was a walking hanger of Vogue must-haves that she had not paid a cent for and still felt guilty for having the items, but she did not want to offend the elves or her host.

''Hermione, I know that you have just returned to Britain and surely have a lot on your mind, but Kingsley has something important to tell you, so dusting your office will be on the plan later.''

''But I haven't completed my final conclusive report yet. I also haven't compiled the monthly reports in a coherent formation… it'd be a terrible mess to even explain it all now…''

''Don't worry about it, child. He's already waiting.'' And so she let him grab her rather limp arm and lead him through the corridors. She didn't really listen to his chatter about some muggle building material co-op and the renovations of the Burrow. But all she wanted was to be in her office and arrange her photo album of the elves she already missed.

His chatter stalled when they arrived at the ornate doors of the Minister's office. The secretary's desk was empty and they marched right into the office.

Hermione had expected to see just Kingsley, but the office seemed nearly crowded. The Minister was talking in hushed tones to none other than her previous host, Lucius Malfoy, who looked like he too had stepped out the men's version of Vogue in a dark blue sharply tailored suit. The other three occupants of the room were even more unexpected. It could have been clear why Lucius Malfoy wanted to hear a pre-report of her final report even though she had sent him all of the monthly reports as he had requested, but what was Harry, Neville, and even less expected, Draco Malfoy doing here? The two Gryffindors were sitting on the three-seater couch and the Slytherin was perched on the armrest. It seemed they were also discussing something important.

The moment he saw her, Harry rushed towards her and engulfed her in a bear hug. ''I'm so sorry I couldn't be home yesterday, I've missed you so much! Come sit with me and Nev!''

''So you've come to hear my report? I'm afraid I am not quite prepared to give a long and extensively detailed report, so many sights, so many different creatures… it was a really wonderful journey that's hard to put into thirty minutes…''

''Since everyone is here, we can come to the reason of this meeting,'' Kingsley said and the voices in the room hushed.

''Hermione, you might have read something in the Official Announcer or the Prophet about the Compulsory Marriage act. It has not caused too much of an uproar, since our society understands the situation we are in currently.''

''Umm…'' Hermione began, wondering how exactly she could manage to sound convincing even though during her three years of research, she had only ever briefly leafed through the Prophet and had not touched the Official Announcer that was always amongst the magazines offered in all three countries she resided. Compiling reports about her research, reading the rare books that could be found in the Malfoy family libraries and just wallowing in laziness and reading the muggle magazines that the elves had so come to love was the reason that she had not fancied reading the dry legislative announcements.

''Basically, it voids all betrothal contracts that might have been signed for witches and wizards currently alive and unmarried, and those who are yet to be born. Some families have contracts in place for several generations, but that is the reason why our society suffers a terrifying decline of birth rates…'' Lucius Malfoy explained casually. ''Therefore the Ministry has, together with a group of international experts, developed a matching mechanism that will ensure that no further damage to our future generations.''

''I still don't understand what all this has to do with me,'' Hermione said calmly. ''I'm obviously not a pureblood, so this doesn't apply to me at all…''

''What Lucius did not finish to say is that our society has incredibly low birth rates that have been low not just during the wars but for over twenty years before the wars. Only one in four witches can give birth to a fully healthy baby, another one of the four is barren and the other two have a high likehood of having a stillbirth, or a squib, or a child who is either magically or physically disabled due to inbreeding being so rampant. Therefore the Ministry has decided to implement a matchmaking system that matches people together according to their magical and physical qualities.'' Arthur said, looking slightly nervous.

''That means that all who wish to marry will be tested to see if their match percentage is high enough to have healthy offspring. Equally, all unmarried witches and wizards aged seventeen to forty-five will have matches assigned, if the match percentage is over 75 percent. As the population decline means that the British wizarding world will disappear in a few decades, all who have matches that meet this percentage will have to marry their match.''

Hermione just stared at Lucius Malfoy. What was he saying? It sounded like such a contrived plan. Force people to marry because of an arbitrary match! Why hasn't there been a wide public outrage about this?

''Hermione, you have been matched,'' Kingsley announced calmly. ''In cases where the matches are exceptional, like when one witch is matched to several people above seventy five percent, we have to allow a multiple marriage for best offspring for all parties involved. In your case, Hermione, you might be surprised, but Harry is your ninety seven percent match - we've never seen such a high percentage. Neville is your ninety three percent match and Draco – ninety two percent. As our system predicts that they are not likely to get an equally high match, you have three husbands.''

Hermione jerked upright. ''You can't do this! It is nonsense! People should be free to choose who they want to marry!''

''Several muggle cultures use arranged marriages. Betrothal contracts are common among magical folk. Our matching takes away the guessing and ensures the continued existence of magical families.''

''I'm no brood mare!'' Hermione exclaimed, feeling her blood boil. It was just an atrocity. Sure, she had been single for all three years when abroad and there was no dreamy looking Italian wanting her hand in marriage, but how could the Ministry just go and define who will she be marrying?

Suddenly, she felt that she was yanked back to a seated position and stunned at the same time. She wanted to scream but no words came out. The older men at the desk did not have their wands out. Neville wouldn't do anything like this, she was rather sure, but just before her outburst she had had her eye on the younger Malfoy and he his wand had not been visible.

''Kingsley, it seems it would be better to give her the calming potion before she explodes about the other stipulations.''

Hermione wanted to gasp, but she couldn't as she saw Harry stand up confidently. Both the Weasley and Malfoy patriarchs didn't seem to mind that her best friend had apparently wandlessly stunned her. He radiated confidence and power, it was rather captivating, but now it seemed even more pronounced at as it had been during the war. Neville and Draco also did not add a word in for her defense. It seemed as if they had expected this to happen. Oh when she got her voice back everybody would get a piece of her mind.

''Hermione, please, don't be upset…'' Harry said calmly as he took a vial proffered by Kingsley. ''It'd be easier for us all when you're reasonably calmed down. I promise I would never give you anything dangerous. I just had to stun you to make sure you listen and understand.''

She knew that she could refuse the potion and make a spectacle of herself in her mid-scream stunned glory. Harry knew her well, he had predicted that she would rave and rant about such injustice. She just couldn't understand why he went along with this. Wouldn't his rightful place be alongside her, screaming his head off at the ministry being unjust and discriminatory?

'The potion tastes a little bitter, but it works fast. I know you want everything to be logical, and getting all worked up over things won't help us. Now, drink up!''

He brought the vial to her lips and she considered, for a brief moment to refuse the potion and spit it into his face, but she couldn't. There was something that she had not seen before in his eyes, it felt weird, but it was incredibly powerful. As the liquid dripped into her mouth she swallowed it without defiance. From the taste she could tell that it was just a bog standard calming potion, something even a fifth year could brew. There was nothing dangerous in it, nothing to coerce her to do things she didn't want to do.

Harry sat back down next to her, taking her limp hand in his. All men in the room waited in silence. Arthur looked slightly worried, but the rest of them did not utter a sound. Lucius Malfoy even seemed slightly bored as he began to pick imaginary lint of off his suit.

''Hermione, I am going to release you from the stunner now, but if you can't behave like a reasonable adult I will have to do something again,'' Harry said calmly. She knew that there was not much she could do. If Harry was going along with this, there surely were reasons that made him think that it was an absolutely reasonable Ministry decision.

Harry released the spell with a mastery that she had not known he possessed. Usually the release from such a quick stunner felt akin to crashing on concrete, but she only felt a slight discomfort, like she'd fallen asleep at an odd angle. She took a mental note to ask him how he did that and where he learned to perform such flawless wandless magic later.

''It seems that now we can continue with the more interesting issues that this Marriage Act encompasses. Kingsley, maybe you can explain it to her,'' the Lucius declared.

''You see, Hermione, the matching system makes sure that the people are compatible in many areas. You have three smart, attractive young men. They each are very different, but many a witch would be happy to call any of them her husband. To ensure population growth, couples matched this way have to have intercourse at least three times a week. Since you have three husbands, it means that each of them gets the same attention.''

Hermione felt herself blush. This was understandable but… so many times! It meant that she'd be busy every night and more if it were three times with each.

''So that means once with…with each?'' she said, barely believing what she was saying. The potion flowing through her system made it all feel like it was no big deal.

''No, it means three times each,'' Kingsley said. ''Each partner has to receive the minimally stipulated sessions as our research shows that the number set is the optimal for ensuring conception.''

It was…just… how could the ministry come up with such invasive things? Though during the last three years she had not had sex even once, there had been some muggle men who had tried to chat her up, but it seemed impolite if she had brought them back to her residence. Once, but just once she had nearly succumbed to the charms of a handsome Italian, but her possible lust was extinguished when he told her that he could only take her home when his mama was out to the market… somehow, she did not want to dally with a mama's boy.

Looking at her possible prospective husbands Hermione expected to see rage, indignation and anger in their faces. They surely had lady friends they all wanted to see it instead. Malfoy was known as a ladies' man, Harry also had countless flings after the war, Neville…Hermione wasn't so sure about his private life but it was clear that he must have had some relationships.

Harry's face bore an impassive expression, like when he was listening to a lecture about goblin uprisings in the fifteenth century. The blond Ferret seemed preoccupied with checking for specks of dirt on his pristine snow-white Muggle sneakers. Only Neville had the decency to look a little flustered.

''Kingsley, have you asked the gentlemen about this matchmaking? They might have their hearts set on someone already.''

''I can confidently speak for all three of us and say that we do not have any…entanglements that would be in the way of this law. Hermione, as you know, laws go over any personal choices in grave matters so even if I, or Draco or Neville had a crush, we cannot pursue it,'' Harry declared.

''Malfoy? Neville? This can't be true. I mean there is no way you're not with someone already and….''

''Hermione, as far as the Ministry is concerned these young wizards are not married or engaged to anybody else. For you as well the Ministry has no information about a magical engagement from any of the three countries you used to reside nor about a Muggle marriage certificate.''

"I could've gotten engaged, you know,'' Hermione huffed.

''If it were a Muggle engagement we would certainly not know,'' agreed the elder Malfoy. ''However, if it were a magical engagement the British Ministry would be aware of it the next day. As there is no such information then you are bound to wed these three gentlemen.''

''But what if I don't want to get married?'' she asked, ignoring Harry's glare.

''Then you shall be locked up in Azkaban in the low security ward for as long as it takes you to be in favor of said marriage,'' the Minister declared.

''Our reluctant bride surely does not want to ponder about her future there. If you just signed the pre-wedding agreement for a get-to-know time of two weeks you could find out more about your future husbands in the comforts of any of their many homes. '' The elder Malfoy handed her a heavy parchment. Hermione's eyes wandered over the stipulations. No intercourse requirements for said two weeks, her choice of which residence their time is spent at, shared bed required with one at a time….

All three of the men had already signed it, Neville's signature was the squiggliest while Malfoy could've entered a calligraphy contest with his fine flourish. Harry's signature was the most familiar one, in neat, nervous letters.

It was true that she did not want to see the inside of Azkaban ever again, even as a short term visitor. She had had enough of hardship in her life already. The war, including the endless camping in the woods, scared for her own and everyone else's' lives was enough of suffering for a lifetime. Maybe she had gotten placated by the fine thread count sheets at the Malfoy residences. But Harry had signed the document. So if her best friend, whom she trusted without question, agreed to this situation, then how could she not?

Harry had saved her life so many times. She trusted him with her life. Maybe this untraditional engagement had good sides.

Harry was looking expectantly at her and Hermione just decided to bite the proverbial bullet. With a shaking hand she signed the parchment.