AN: I've never actually read a marriage law fanfic, I just see them all the time. So, this is just me making up my version of a well-used, pre-existing idea. I feel like it's a simple formula, hopefully I have concocted something worth your time.

Leave me a review if you've got something to say, I'll send you an imaginary cake. With pink frosting! And a cherry on top.

Hermione was 22, living with her long-term boyfriend, Ron Weasley, and an intern at the Ministry of Magic. Things were nice. She wasn't miserable but she was unhappy, and she often felt discontented. Her work was mundane, all she did was file all day long. Her relationship had fallen into such a regular routine it was boring. She had so little to talk about with Ron. Each night, he listened to the sparse news from her day, and she'd do the same in return. They'd eat her tolerable, but uninteresting, cooking for dinner, wash the dishes, and spend the evening in one of two ways. The usual, each quietly going about their own business, Hermione reading, Ron tinkering with his chess collection, or they'd go to bed, and have sex.

They had no shared interests, frankly Hermione found that Ron didn't have much personality, or any hobbies besides chess. Which she loathed.

In fact, Hermione had realized she didn't even know why she liked Ron to begin with.

Initially she had realized sex wouldn't be the best part of their relationship, but she hadn't worried, expecting them to have so much chemistry elsewhere. They didn't. And though Ron's cock was average sized and he could usually go for a few minutes before he was spent, he was not a noteworthy lover.

He liked to grope her breasts, she didn't like it, it wasn't sensual, and he'd clearly never heard of a clitoris. Foreplay was sparse, he only did missionary and he thought that thrusting his penis in and out of her vagina a couple dozen times would be enough to ravish her. He certainly didn't use his mouth for anything besides kissing, that was for sure.

Hermione had brought sex up multiple times during their relationship, Ron always blushed and brushed her off, refusing to hear criticism, suggestions, or even hear what she wanted.

She'd grown far too accustomed to it.

She wasn't sure why, but she remembered loving him, after defeating Voldemort, after they connected during the Battle. She had fallen. And yet somehow, she no longer had those feelings. Love had faded, without her notice, and become routine. She was used to him.

She just didn't love Ron Weasley anymore.

This realization had made the news even worse.

'Due to an alarming decrease in magical population and rise in muggle population, all wizards and witches over the age of 21 must marry a fellow wizard or witch by the end of the year. If not married by choice by December 31st, the Ministry will assign a marriage to a random member of the wizarding community. All assigned marriages must be accepted, on pain of imprisonment in Azkaban, life sentence.

All pending marriages of members of the wizarding community to muggles and same-sex marriages have been suspended and are henceforth banned. Failure to comply will result in imprisonment in Azkaban for the remainder of the population crisis, minimum 20 years.

All marriages must provide a minimum of three children within a five-year period. If, after two years of matrimony, no child has been conceived, both partners will be exiled from the wizarding community, their wands broken, and will forced to live as Muggles. They will be cut off from friends, family and from the Ministry for Magic, irrefutably.'

Hermione had stared at the Daily Prophet, her hands shaking slightly, her face blank. The information was too horrific for her mundane life cushioned brain to respond to immediately. Eventually she snapped to attention, her reeling mind focusing and telling her to pull herself together. Yes, she was upset, yes this was crazy, yes, she could hardly breathe, BREATHE DAMNIT.

"You can't marry Ron." Were the first words she uttered, tears pooling, her heart aching as she imagined the rest of her life like this. Boring and tiresome, little Weasleys running around…

No. She was meant for so much more. She had brains, ambition, passions, she was a beautiful woman, and she couldn't live like this.

She didn't know what to do about the marriage law. She'd have to cross that bridge when she came to it. What she had to do was break up with her boyfriend of four years and get her ass out of this dreary house.

Ron arrived home, his face flushed, rare excitement in his eyes. "Hermione! Time to get married, have you heard? It's crazy, but at least we have each other!" He picked her up, swinging her around, his enthusiasm hurting her heart deeply. Memories of him like this in high school resurfacing and threatening to weaken her resolve to leave him.

"Ron, no, put me down." She said softly, blinking back tears, her guilt weighing heavily in her stomach, making her feel physically sick.

Ron frowned, setting her back on the ground. "What's the matter?"

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, choking on her words. "We can't do this Ron, forcing marriage is wrong." She began weakly, fumbling as she tried to put her feelings to words.

"It won't be forced." Ron assured her, getting down on one knee and grasping her hands despite her face crumpling in protest. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?" Ron asked hopefully, looking up at her from beneath his floppy ginger hair.

Hermione dropped his hand, shaking her head, tears running freely. "I don't love you Ron."

She began crying in earnest as hurt painted his face, he was visibly crushed and it hurt her more than she thought she could bear.

"I'm so sorry. I just can't do this anymore. I want so much more, I can't live this way, I, I'm so sorry." She sobbed as he stood, reaching for his shoulder as his face steeled over. He stepped out of her reach and turned away.

"I'm going to the burrow. When I come back I expect you to be gone."

Hermione swallowed her tears, collapsing to her knees, shuddering when he slammed the door behind him. She sat on the floor until her eyes were dry and her battered heart was beating steadily.

Breaking up with him had been harder than anything else before in her life, and yet, through the pain, she could already feel a weight lifting from her shoulders.

She was free.