Chapter 4

-oOo-

Finding a meeting place that was acceptable to everyone was almost as difficult as getting to a point where such a gathering was possible in the first place. Eventually, Hermione managed to persuade Headmistress McGonagall to let them use Hogwarts, which ought to be neutral ground for everyone.

It wasn't until she Apparated there on the day of the meeting that it occurred to Hermione that a former battlefield perhaps wasn't the best place to come to an understanding, but then it was too late. They would just have to put up with it.

"Everyone has to leave their wand at the door. The Hogwarts house-elves will look after them," she told a mutinous Freya Rowle.

"And those who can use wandless magic? Are we supposed to let them have their way with the rest of us?" Rowle had a rather penetrating voice, causing several people walking through the doors at the same time to slow down so they could hear the rest of the conversation.

"I can assure you the spell Hermione has put on us makes the consequences very unpleasant." Harry handed over his wand without complaining, earning a thankful glance from Hermione.

"Order!"

Miraculously, the Great Hall fell quiet. There was still whispered conversations everywhere, and someone at the back was still in full flow telling an anecdote about flying to Cornwall. Faced with Augusta Longbottom's stony glare the story was cut short mid-sentence.

It had not been easy to find someone to chair the meeting.

That was an understatement – as soon as Hermione and Draco had whipped up enough support in their respective networks for Doing Something, even if it would involve meeting people who had been on the wrong side of the last war, the extent of the difficulties they would face getting them to talk to each other without hexes flying in the air became apparent.

Happily, Draco had recalled being terrified of Mrs Longbottom at an otherwise long-forgotten family gathering, and they had forged ahead.

"Everyone who does not know why they' are here may now excuse themselves on account of being too dim to leave home unaccompanied." Mrs Longbottom's voice echoed in every corner of the hall, and Hermione was suddenly grateful the old witch looked nothing like Voldemort.

"You may whinge as much as you like, but unless you can overcome your differences and forge a joint approach you may as well go home and wait for your letter from the Ministry. Just like when you were eleven, only with a nasty twist. What are you going to do about it?"

A dozen voices piped up, only to be silenced abruptly.

"Miss Granger's hand was up first, I believe. Everyone will get their turn – I have Strengthening Solution at the back, should anyone start flagging before the end of the night." The curl of her lip suggested she regarded anyone who needed it as a weakling.

"Thank you." Hermione stood up, butterflies in her stomach as she let her eye wander across the room. Hagrid stood out, twice as large as anyone else, and she saw the pale blond hair of her dear husband next to Drusilla Nott. There was a smattering of friendly faces from the DA, interspersed with strangers and known quantities she could not necessarily count on for a friendly hearing.

Nothing worthwhile had ever been easy; she squared her shoulders and got on with it. "I'm glad to see so many of you share my concerns about the marriage law. While it would have been welcome at an earlier stage, it is by no means a lost cause. Let me outline a few possible scenarios for you...

"A putsch," Harry said disapprovingly, as Hermione Apparated in his kitchen afterwards.

"Not a word I expected to hear from you." She tried for a bit of lightness, but didn't get anywhere.

"I don't like it, Hermione. There's more to this than meets the eye, I can feel it!"

Damn Harry and his occasional bouts of being perceptive. Couldn't he have had them as a teenager, when they would actually have been useful?

"I think what meets the eye is bad enough. Harry, surely you agree we have to stop this?"

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned, before shaking his head vigorously. It seemed to work – his face seemed to blur into focus, and his normal sharp look was back. "Of course we have to stop. It's only – We should have done something long ago. Something that worked. I realise it must be like a slap in the face at this stage, but I'm sorry. "

The temptation to tell him everything almost overpowered her, but a moment's reflection sufficed to squash it. They would all be better for it, Hermione reminded herself. Not only Harry and Ginny, but their children, and their children's children.

Surely a little deception was a small price to pay?

"The important thing is what we do know," she said briskly, and Harry nodded.

It took four more mass meetings, ten working groups, two of Draco's precious vats of Polyjuice, too many arguments to count and a very large amount of Galleons to swing public opinion. Reluctantly, the Minister was persuaded she ought to spend more time with her Crups, and the field was open for a new Minister with fresh ideas to step up.

Like Seraphina Selwyn, who had a mind so open the wind didn't bother taking the long way around, blowing straight through between her ears instead.

"Not long to go now," Draco said as he laid the final touches to Selwyn's election manifesto.

"Hmm." Hermione was busy drafting the repeal of all marriage laws other than the ones relating to bestiality, as well as the addendum making it high treason to even propose another one. If she could get this right, the potential for future fuckwittery in the wizarding world would at least be restricted to public life.

"Are you coming to the victory party?" The tips of Draco's ears were suspiciously pink.

"What party?"

"It'll be at the Leaky Cauldron – in the secret function room, of course. Even Mrs Longbottom is coming. I'd better sort out some elf-made wine for her, or there will be complaints..."

"You don't think it's slightly premature?"

"It will," Draco said with satisfaction, "be the party of the decade."

He was right, of course – once it sank in that the marriage law was history, the atmosphere became giddy with relief. Draco had spared no expense behind the bar; even Mrs Longbottom was showing signs of thawing after three tiny glasses of elf-made wine.

Hermione caught up with Draco after he had peeled an effusive Angelina Johnston off his robes, directing her towards Blaise Zabini and his hoard of champagne bottles.

"Look at that for interhouse cooperation." Hermione was leaning against the wall, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of having the edges of the world softened just a little by a few glasses of the excellent champagne.

"I might need a bit more practise," Draco told his very expensive shoes.

"What?"

"It's been very quiet in the lab since you moved out. The house-elves keep asking when you're coming back, too," he added on belatedly, but the faint pink glow to his cheeks told another story. One Hermione suddenly was very eager to hear.

"I see. I definitely have to come back for a visit then."

"Exactly." Draco had found a wineglass somewhere. He took a large sip, smiling at nothing in particular (unless you counted Mrs Longbottom dancing a jig with Hagrid).

Hermione found that she was smiling, too. "Besides, there's the rest of my masterplan. Getting rid of the marriage law was just the start – it would be handy to have a Slytherin around."

"Indeed." Draco stood so close the tiny hairs at the back of his hand were touching hers. They stayed there, comfortable in companionable silence as the party raged around them. Not even a filthy stare from Lucius made Draco step away.

He stayed there, as if they belonged together. Eventually, he slipped his fingers around Hermione's hand – very carefully, as if she were made of glass.

Well, bollocks to that. Before she lost her nerve, Hermione swung her arms around Draco and kissed him as if her life depended on it. He emerged with pink cheeks, looking happier than she ever had seen him.

"Really, Granger?"

"Really, Malfoy. Now that I can call you that again."

He swallowed whatever he had been about to say before kissing her again. Not even Ron, loudly clapping his hands and hollering something, could make them break apart.

THE END

I wanted to write a marriage law story where Hermione's reaction to the Ministry trying to force her into marriage is as true to her character as possible. You will have to tell me whether it worked or not...