"The strongest winds come from your mouth

Set my sails down south

Through this haze and these storms of doubt

Why do we do it this way?"

"I'll Be Your Woman," St. Paul and the Broken Bones

Morning came quietly over the streets of London, and when the sun was barely peaking over the neat row of houses on Grimmauld Place, Ron Weasley was fixing himself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, Ron had found himself greeting the day as it broke. He had changed - while still tall with his trademark red hair, he had become markedly older. His smile was more muted, his jokes and laughter more subdued. On first glance, he looked like a 24-year-old, but on the other hand, everyone who looked into his eyes saw he had lived through unspeakable horrors.

After the war, Harry had invested money into cleaning up and repairing Number 12 Grimmauld Place, transforming the creaky, musty flat to a beautiful, light-filled home. It no longer hid in between 11 and 13, and the Muggles never paid it any mind. Harry enjoyed the unique character of Islington and had convinced Ron to move into one of the second-floor bedrooms. It was convenient for the two of them, as Harry had become an Auror and Ron had joined George at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Hermione worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, enacting policy and supervising oversight. Her affluent dentist parents left her their flat in the highly coveted neighbourhood of Knightsbridge, and they retired to the French countryside to pursue their dreams of creating the perfect Bordeaux.

Ron paused at the large window to admire the sunrise when the Daily Prophet owl knocked on the glass, pulling him out his thoughts. He undid the twine and as he settled into the chair to begin reading, his eyes widened in shock and let out a yell.

In the six years since the end of the war, it had become customary for the friends to pile into Harry's kitchen to discuss the news when important things occurred. As the years had gone on, and life returned to some kind of modicum of normalcy, these impromptu meetings had become less and less frequent. But by seven am, the usually quiet kitchen was bustling with activity. Luna Lovegood had arrived first, which Ron appreciated since he knew she was also an early riser, but she had a calming effect on him. Harry had been filled in on the situation as he set the kettle for coffee. Hermione was next, muttering "they can't do this," and "positively appalling," under her breath, and then George and Charlie joined. Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley (flatmates in Chelsea, which was a point of contention, since they all played for different Quidditch teams) appeared, Angelina clutching her half-eaten toast. Neville joined last, covered in leaves (he had a tendency to do some midnight Herbology when he couldn't sleep.

Hermione, as usual, started the conversation. "Obviously, they can't go through with this."

Katie leaned back in her chair. "I don't know what this is. Ginny yanked me out of bed to come."

The kitchen exploded into an outburst of noise, which instantly died down as Hermione began to explain.

"Apparently, the wizarding population has hit a severe decline - so many people were killed during the war, and people are choosing not to get married and have kids. They hoped it would even out over time, but the issue is getting worse. So the ministry is going to allow one year for people to choose their mate, and if they're not successful at the end of the year in finding a suitable partner, the Ministry will them up. This happened in 1267, and there's some sort of spell, like the Goblet of Fire, that picks the right person for you. But the Ministry is playing at giving us a choice or something."

Angelina made her way over to George, and rested her head against in shoulder. They had been dating for years, and she was his rock, and the light in his life. After Fred had died, Angelina had restored love into his life, had held him when he felt like he could no longer go on, and covered the store on days when George needed to just fly and clear his head.

Harry watched as his chosen family interacted and supported each other. He wondered about his own future. After the war, he, Hermione, and Ron, had been covered extensively by the various wizarding periodicals. They had risen to a level of celebrity that Harry and Hermione found, frankly, intolerable. Ron thought it was hilarious, and it did attract a fair amount of business to the shop. Ginny was a celebrated Quidditch player in her own right, but she had received even more coverage because she was, as Rita Skeeter had put it, "The Chosen Girlfriend." Harry was also raising Teddy Lupin, and he worried about adding more children to the mix.

Harry's eyes drifted off to Hermione, who was chatting with Ginny quietly. Hermione and Ron never made it work. There was too much of an intellectual disparity, and Hermione just couldn't resign herself to the various attitudes and behaviors Ron was so prone to. Ron had taken a while to forgive her, but time had worked its magic, and the three were back to their regular, status quo friendship. Harry worried about her. She had been hardest hit when the periodicals decided to cover her extensively. They debated her clothing endlessly, her hair, her job, and even her various goings-about. When she had ducked into Waterstone's in Kensington, the photo below the fold had been her leaving with an armful of books, and they debated endlessly if reading Muggle texts was of any value or would help her catch a man. In truth, Hermione was buying endless novels because she felt that she could not go outside without being accosted by the general public. Harry wondered if she would opt out of the process entirely, and chose to wait for the spell, since that seemed of least hassle, if entirely loveless. He sipped his tea, hoping that his best friend and most trusted confidant would make the right choice, as she normally did.

When Hermione had arrived Hogwarts, she had been incredibly careful to cultivate an identity that she was an extremely regular Muggleborn, and let her abilities and intelligence speak for itself. She had pushed forth a narrative that her parents were comfortably middle class dentists who resided in North London, and she had had a perfectly normal reality, Hermione's family was far more interesting.

Hermione's grandfather, Edward Granger, had been a clever and ambitious man in his early twenties when the Second World War had raged across Europe. Unlike for many men his age, he had all opportunities open before him, being of title and money, and he used it to his advantage. As a graduate of the Royal Naval College in Dartmouth, he worked his way up in the ranks to Lieutenant -Commander, and fought bravely during the war. After the war, he played the role as a concerned member of the people, but also bought and built up properties across war-ravaged London, often displacing the people he claimed to care about. He joined the House of Lords and used his connections and sheer cunning to create a real-estate empire.

Edward was eager to instill his brand of unbridled ambition into his only son, Daniel, but the cerebral boy had chosen to eschew his father's path of the Navy and then business and instead pursued a career in dentistry, where he then met his wife, Catherine. Daniel was aware he had no need to work to provide for his family, and all he really wanted money for was to purchase more books and travel to odd lands. When their daughter, Hermione, had joined the mix, they had been fascinated by the various quirks she had displayed as she grew. They emphasized education for education's sake, not as the way of achieving a goal, and were delighted when she proved to be just as intelligent and curious as her parents. And while her parents had no interest in the fact that they were both highly titled and moneyed, they still benefitted from it greatly. For the precocious child, being addressed as "Lady Granger," felt absurd and archaic, and she resented her peers who were also titled, since their behaviour was typically entitled and churlish.

And so Hogwarts presented her an opportunity where she was just Hermione, where she assumed she would be judged on the basis of her abilities, and not who her parents were and how much money they had. This was Hermione's main mistake - she was judged, and severely so, based on her lineage, but this time, she was being discriminated against. However, as time went by, no one could deny she commanded respect - intelligent, brave, and an excellent friend, Hermione far exceeded whatever anyone could have expected from. She carefully concealed her family life, but when she would go home for summer she was thrown back into the identity that felt so absolutely foreign to her. It was like putting on a coat four sizes too large in the summer.

As she conversed with Ginny next to the sink, she thought about her identity, and all the choices she had made to get to this moment. She sighed, and she looked towards Harry, he nodded to her. They had fought wars together, they were bound in a way no one could explain. She longed to go back to the tent where it had just been the two of them. For the first time since the end of the war, she was terrified.