Three things awakened Hermione from her deep sleep. The loud thunder that cracked through the rainy night. The boisterous booming laugh which Fred, or was it George, emitted from upstairs. And the slight shivering moves happening under the warm heavy covers of her bed.

"Harry, what are you doing in my bed?'' Her raspy, filled with sleep voice was ignored, as the cold body in her bed turned to the other side. The witch tried to get to a sitting position, but her vision blackened entirely, she squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. The fatigue had still not left her body. Things were getting pretty out of hand with her position in the Department of Mysteries.

After a bit more twitching and turning Harry poked out his head from under the covers. His dark hair was as messy is it could come, there were no glasses covering his features and the dark circles under his eyes made him look a lot older than he appeared.

"Ginny is mad at me," his looked so fragile with his puppy dog eyes pointed at the ceiling. Hermione didn't really want to deal with this right now, not with the tragic end of her last mission still fresh in her mind. But Harry was her best friend and as always she was ready to help him with anything. That's why even though the pounding pain in her head, she turned towards him, put her elbow on her pillow and leaned her head midair into her palm.

"She is pregnant, Harry, it's normal for her to have constant mood swings,'' Hermione tried to calmly explain to Harry. Boys will always be boys and her Harry and Ron were no exceptions, as it was proven to her so many times over the last decade of their friendship.

"It's...it's not that this time,'' he turned to lay on his stomach and nuzzled his face into Hermione's second pillow that she kept in her bed just in case of similar encounters whether it was Ron crying over his last breakup, Fred feeling lonely as George gets a new girlfriend and vice versa, or just Ginny trying to have a girly chat with her.

It was almost funny how many people have slept in her bed and none of them was part of her love life. A real proof that it was rather nonexistent. That was definitely a lot more alarming than most of the discussions held on her bed.

"She wants to continue playing Quidditch until her fifth or sixth month.''

Hermione almost missed it due to his voice being muffled by the pillow. She understood his worries. It was the health of their child and more importantly the health of Ginny on the line. If something happened to either of them, Harry would not forgive himself. But she also understood Ginny's side on the matter. It was her career, she had been building it for years, and she wouldn't let it go so easily, even if it wasn't for long. Although Hermione perfectly knew how much two years absence meant for sport, especially such as Quidditch.

But before she started speaking, Harry was already fast asleep.

Hermione sighed and laid on her back, looking at the intricate details on the ceiling. Sirius's house definitely had its own signature. When Hermione first set a foot in it couple of years back, she was somewhat mesmerised, although it was the house of the notorious Black family and some of the air and the objects in the house were almost bent on brutally remaining her of her muggle lineage, she still found it extremely spellbinding. As a witch with non-magical parents it was always interesting for her the homes of the Wizarding families. The little compelling details, the magic flowing effortlessly around the air of the house, the spectral secrets hidden in various places. The only magical home she had ever been for a longer period of time was The Burrow. And she loved it there.

It took a great deal of time and magic to restore it after the war, but it was worth it. She and Harry still especially loved going there for the holidays. Molly had offered them multiple times to live there, but they refused every single time. Harry wanted to spend more time with Sirius and felt more at home at 12 Grimmauld Place, and Hermione... Well, Hermione felt obligated to be with Ron if she decided to stay there and they both knew from personal experience that it wouldn't work. So, she was initially bent on buying herself a little cozy apartment until Harry found out about her intentions.

Hermione still remembered his heartbroken sullen expression as if she was leaving them, turning her back on their friendship. She knew that if she decided to move away, their friendship was going to suffer to the point where they would be seeing each other once or twice per year. With her time-consuming job as an Unspeakable and Harry's as an Auror it was a clear indication it would happen. But she didn't want to be a burden, everybody had to continue on their own path.

It took a great deal of 'negotiations', as Harry referred to them, to persuade her to remain at 12 Grimmauld Place, even Sirius took participation in them. The only reason she said yes, was due to the nature of her job, she was constantly absent and buying a flat for the sole purpose of just having a place to crash in for a few nights a week, was really kind of illogical.

So this is how she ended up living here for almost five years already.

Hermione sometimes thought she was overstaying her welcome, but when she didn't go back for a week or more, Sirius and Harry were starting to get worried and owled her frequently. Or when a-gone-terribly-wrong mission happened and turned her into a shell of a person, Sirius would go up to her room, offer her a warm and sweet beverage and talk about all the crazy days he, Remus, James and Peter had. Maybe she wasn't that unwelcomed or maybe they were just as broken up after the war as she was.

Hermione sighed and turned again in the bed, she couldn't fall asleep. She decided that if she continued with the constant spinning around, she would eventually wake Harry up, so she threw her covers on the empty space between her and Harry and got up.

The brown haired witch put a red satin robe over her scarce nightwear, she pulled her frizzy hair in a high bushy ponytail and quietly left the room.

As she was walking down the stairs, she willed herself not to think of the latest problems in her job. Hermione needed a bit of a clear mind and a rest, and the only way she usually managed to accomplish it was with a cup of hot milk and an intriguing book. That's why she headed to the kitchen, but soon stop abruptly when she saw the slight light emitted from the gap under the door, which was a pretty clear indication that someone was in the kitchen. And judging by the silencing spell casted on the room, there for sure wasn't only one person.

The witch contemplated whether to enter or not. But decided to do it, she wasn't the nosy little girl anymore capable of only eavesdropping, she was a grown up woman capable of understanding the complicity of different types of information. Well, she did hope whomever was in there, they weren't talking about something in their private lives, then her entrance would be just plain rude.

But before she could even grip the door handle, the door was unexpectedly opened and a woman around Hermione's height with bubble pink hair adoring her features greeted her wholeheartedly.

The hug she received from Nymphadora Tonks was both heartwarming and literally breathtaking.

"I haven't seen you for such a long time," the pink haired witch released her and stepped back to observe her. "You are becoming more and more beautiful the older you get.''

"Thank you,'' Hermione blushed. "Same could be said for you too.'' That woman already had two children and still looked as fit as the first day she saw her.

"Don't forget that I am a Metamorphmagus, dear.'' Nymphadora whispered to her quietly followed by a wink and turned around when a polite male cough was heard.

"It's rare to see you anymore, Hermione.'' Remus Lupin shook her hand and grinned at the young witch. The scar on his face made him look even more sincere if that was possible.

"She has left me and Harry to survive on our own here, Remus,'' Sirius put his arm on his heart and desperately closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Such a drama queen, this boy," Nymphadora whispered next to her and they both laughed, as the older witch led her into the room as Remus followed behind them, closing the door shut.

Sirius was siting in his seat at the end of the long table, a half empty crystal cup of fire whiskey stood in front of him. His long black hair was messily pulled in some kind of a bun on the back of his head, a few fallen locks were gently brushing his sharp cheekbones. He was such a dramatic force to be reckoned with. The slightly oversized purple shirt, was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, revealing some of his tattoos and it's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing even more tattoos. He reminded her of...

It didn't matter.

They talked about this and that for a while. How were the children, how was the life going, Ginny and the baby, the prospering family business - Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which Fred, George and Ron were running, the tons of work at the Ministry of Magic and so on. It made Hermione relax, which has not happened for a long time, but then the Question was asked.

"Who is the lucky man, Hermione?'' Remus put the glass of water on the table and looked at her with a flicker of hope in his eyes. He always wished everybody the best, there weren't many people like him left in this wrecked world. But only if he knew.

"It could be a woman, Remus, don't be a prude.'' Sirius jokingly bristled.

"I don't really think he would call himself lucky.'' The young witch sighed.

The letter had arrived two days ago. The moment she saw the glowing black seal of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione knew her destiny was doomed. The only comfort to her was that her position didn't really leave her a lot free time, which she would have otherwise spend with her new 'husband'.

After the Second Wizarding War and the colossal number of casualties during it, the Wizarding community in Britain faced a massive birth rate collapse accompanied with even more shocking shortage of young children. The wizards hadn't really thought it beforehand how much children have become victims to the war, until the facts and the numbers shocked them altogether.

Then the bloody law was passed in and every witch and wizard from age of twenty five to forty five, who were not engaged, married, lonely parent or pregnant, was endangered of becoming one of those unwillingly. It was a complete chaos.

The Heredes Law it was called.

Pureblood families were enraged but due to the fact that most of them were on the dark side in the war, they had no word in the voting. Which led to hundreds of letters being sent to numerous witches and wizards binding them together unwillingly.

Hermione did think of Ron the moment she heard about the voting of the new law, but that would have meant to steal his chance of happiness or meeting a woman, who would love him truly and dearly. She couldn't deprive him of a happy future, so when the declaration of status arrived at her desk the other morning, she underlined 'unbounded' and prayed to be selected someone compatible through the algorithm the Ministry has come up with, and with whom she would be able to build a nice future with or at least for their children. Not that the young witch wanted children at this moment in her life.

But she definitely hadn't braced herself for the crushing revelation that followed when the envelope, which contained the name of her future spouse, arrived.

Malfoy, Draco Lucius

The young witch had experienced quite a lot of shocks in her lifetime, but this one came as too much even for her.

This was surely some kind of a poor joke! It was impossible, they weren't compatible. At all.

'Filthy mudblood!' His words still ringed in her conscience, the hatred hidden deep in herself escalating. Although she had forgiven him long time ago, she still couldn't forget that monstrous night, when Bellatrix Lestrange branded her for life. Dirtied her.

He was as guilty as innocent in some aspects, but no matter what, he remained a traitor in her mind.

"It's not a problem if you don't want to tell us yet.'' Nymphadora brought her back to the reality, when she put her warm hand on Hermione's tensed shoulder.

She then looked at her husband and Sirius to urge them to say something. But before either of them could tell a thing, Hermione took a deep breath and braced her future.

"Malfoy,'' she looked at them with a gaze as hard as stone. "My spouse-to-be is Draco Lucius Malfoy.''

"Why?'' They all jumped when they heard Harry's voice and turned to the door. Hermione couldn't even look him in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, Hermione?''

He looked so genuinely hurt, that it made it difficult for the young witch to breathe.

Because she was scared.

She was scared that she would lose him and Ron.

Hermione was scared of the abandonment, the rejection, the loneliness.