The Clock is Ticking

All over the castle, the new Ministry decree was the sole topic of conversation. Hermione couldn't get away from it: whether she was in the common room, the Great Hall, in class, walking down the corridor, or even in the loo, she heard students whispering about it. Some were excited – mostly girls with boyfriends – but most were anxious. Like Hermione, many of the other of age students didn't even have a boyfriend or girlfriend, let alone someone they were prepared to marry in less than two months' time.

As such, hasty relationships were springing up everywhere; people who barely knew one another were suddenly planning their weddings. It quickly became quite normal to overhear students asking near-strangers to marry them. These were not the traditional get-down-on-one-knee sort of proposals, but rushed, desperate ones made in between classes by students who were in danger of finding themselves alone at the end of the year.

Had she not been so concerned by her own single state, Hermione might have found it amusing to see students proposing left and right as if they'd been slipped one of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes love potions. As it was, she was also overwhelmed by anxiety. What would happen to her if she didn't find someone to marry? Of course, the Ministry would choose someone for her – but what if there wasn't anybody to pair her up with? Would the curse kill her? Do something worse to her?

Even before the decree was issued, being Harry Potter's close friend and one of the people who had helped bring Voldemort down had made Hermione very popular. Now, she could barely set foot down a corridor without a gang of boys descending upon her to ask her to marry them. The very day after the decree was made, no less than three boys, none of whom she'd ever spoken to before, had flung proposals her way. Taken aback, she'd refused every one of them.

Soon, she began to regret her refusals. As the weeks flew by and those same boys settled on other girls while Hermione remained single and increasingly worried, she knew she'd have to fill out the application. She would be stuck with someone who was even more of a stranger to her than the boys who'd been clamoring for her attention. Perhaps even someone – dare she say it – as old as Dumbledore had been. As that notion made bile rise in her throat, she shoved the thought to the back of her mind and busied herself with schoolwork, that time-proven method of distracting her from stress.

The end of November brought with it the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. Hermione waded through the tall drifts of snow with Ginny, the winding road leading from Hogwarts to the village entirely hidden under a white blanket.

"I'm sure you'll find someone," Ginny said bracingly as the iced rooftops of the village appeared in the distance. All around them, couples were walking down together, using the time free of homework and classes to get to know one another before their impending weddings. "You're quite good-looking, you know."

"But I don't want to be proposed to because I'm good-looking, or because I'm Harry Potter's best friend, or because the boy in question's just afraid he's going to die," Hermione said with a scowl.

"Hermione, I never would've taken you for a romantic." Ginny grinned. Then she grew serious. "This isn't the time to be picky. If you're holding out for someone who'll love you, or even appreciate your brains, you're not going to find them."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "Maybe I should've accepted that one Ravenclaw. He seemed quite nice."

"Too late now," Ginny said, shrugging. "He's engaged to Luna."

Lost in her own miserable thoughts, Hermione didn't even notice that Ginny was no longer by her side until she heard her friend's sudden exclamation of delight and the crunching of snow. Looking up, she saw her friend's hair flashing copper in the weak sunlight as she ran straight into Harry's arms.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Ginny laughed as Harry hugged her tightly.

"It was a surprise," he said. Peering over her shoulder, he called, "All right, Hermione?"

Hermione forced a smile onto her face. "Never been better," she replied. Looking around and not spotting the familiar mop of red hair, she asked, "Is Ron here?"

"He's just gone into the Three Broomsticks to wait for us," Harry said. "Come on."

Hermione followed Harry and Ginny along the main street and into the warm, crowded pub. They ordered four butterbeers and squeezed around the table where Ron waited for them.

"'Bout time you three got here," Ron grumbled. "I had to save your seats."

"How are things at the Auror office?" Ginny asked, taking a sip of her butterbeer.

"We've been doing a bit of training," Harry said, "but mostly we've been helping to track down the last of the Death Eaters. We've managed to get quite a few so far."

"You should probably be concentrating more on the bit of Dark magic that's forcing people who are of age to scramble around to get married." Hermione glared severely at Harry and Ron. "Or is that not a priority?"

"'Course it is," Ron said, looking down at his mug uneasily. "We've been doing all we can. Problem is, no one knows just what spell's been put on that decree. Not even Snape knows, and he's the one who told the Aurors about it."

"So who're you engaged to, Hermione?" Harry asked, eyeing her closely.

"No one." She took a long draft of butterbeer to avoid the worried look Ron and Harry exchanged across from her.

"Hermione, you really need to..." Harry began, but Ginny cut him off.

"Wait! Why doesn't Ron just marry her?" Ginny's brown eyes were bright with excitement at the idea. "You've known each other for ages anyway, and I'm sure Mum would be thrilled to have Hermione in the family!"

"Er." Ron and Harry glanced significantly at each other. "I can't," Ron said.

"Why not?" Hermione asked. The idea hadn't even occurred to before – how could she not have thought of this simple solution to her problem? She'd been worrying for weeks....

"I'm... well... er... I'm going to marry someone else," Ron muttered, turning beet red and taking a hasty swig out of his mug; he choked and slopped butterbeer all down his front.

"Well, break it off with whoever she is, then!" Ginny said impatiently. "Hermione's your friend; she's more important!"

"I can't," Ron said, turning even redder. "We're getting married tomorrow."

Hermione felt as if her very last ray of hope had died. With a deep sigh, she looked down at her half-empty mug. "Who is she?"

"You don't know her," Ron said, gaze lighting everywhere but on Hermione. "She's a year older than I am. About to become an Auror. Her name's Emily. We've actually been... er... seeing each other since summer."

Hermione nodded to show she'd heard, but her heart sank further. "Congratulations," she said, trying to make her voice sound cheerful, but she knew she'd failed when Harry reached across the table to touch her hand.

"Come on, Hermione," he said. "I'm sure you'll find someone."

"She's turned down a dozen proposals already," Ginny said, looking extremely put out by Ron's news.

"Hermione!" Ron turned to her, appalled. "You do realize how important this is, right?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione snapped, slamming down her mug. "I know very well, Ronald! I know I could end up dying – or worse! Who knows what awful curse Voldemort put on that law?"

Standing, Hermione pulled on her cloak and fastened it. Without another glance back, she stalked to the door and, with a tinkle of the bell hanging over the door, disappeared into the snow that was now falling thickly from the white sky.

XXXXX

Twirling her quill between her fingers and chewing on her bottom lip, Hermione stared down at the piece of parchment sitting on the desk before her. Snow was falling thick and fast outside the dormitory window, and a blast of cold wind whistled through a gap between the glass and sill. Hermione wasn't sure if it was the draft or the parchment that was making her shiver.

She knew she had to fill out the application. Everyone she knew had found someone else; she was the only student left who didn't have anyone. November was drawing to a close, and there were only eighteen days until the Ministry deadline. Only a month until the year ended....

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Hermione dipped her quill into the inkwell and began to fill out the application.

Name: Hermione Jean Granger

Gender: Female

Occupation or School Currently Attending: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Age: 19

As she scratched out her age, Hermione wondered how on earth the Ministry could find her a compatible husband when they knew so little about her. She began to suspect that their idea of "compatibility" was simply being unmarried and of age.

With a sense of great foreboding, she folded the letter and attached it to the leg of the school owl she'd brought up with her. She just knew this was going to end badly. How could it not?

Feeling even worse than before, she made her way down to the crowded, noisy common room. Ginny sat with a few of her friends in front of the fire, the last of her homework balanced on her knee.

"There you are," Ginny said brightly as Hermione sat down.

"I've just done it," Hermione said. Crookshanks leapt up onto her lap; she scratched the purring cat behind the ears.

"Done what?" Ginny asked absentmindedly as she turned back to her essay.

"Sent off the application," Hermione replied, her voice heavy.

"Oh!" Ginny looked up at her friend. "How soon will you get a response?"

"The application said I'll hear back from the Ministry the day after the deadline." Hermione pulled her own homework toward her and took out the same essay Ginny was working on.

Ginny looked at her with sympathy. "I really am sorry, Hermione," she said. "I feel awful. You're getting stuck with someone you don't even know and I'm marrying someone I ... I love." She blushed deeply and quickly returned to her essay, avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"There's no need to be sorry," Hermione said with a sigh. "I should've accepted one of those proposals. It's my fault. I guess I was just hoping... I don't know... that the Ministry would fix this before I had to get married."

"If that git brother of mine had just broken it off with that Emily girl, you wouldn't have this problem!" Ginny said, suddenly angry. She upset her ink bottle as she plunged her quill furiously into it, splattering ink all over her essay. "Damn it!"

"Here, let me." Hermione took out her wand and leaned forward. With one sweeping motion, the ink flew off the page, forming a shining black ball of liquid which landed neatly back in its bottle. "And it's not Ron's fault. I couldn't have expected him to break it off with her at the last minute. In fact, I would have been furious if he had. Imagine how you would have felt if Harry jilted you the night before your wedding.... Mind you, I'd hex him to pieces before you even knew."

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will figure out how to break the curse soon," Ginny said, "and then you won't have to get married. Or at least won't have to stay married for long."

"Maybe I'll get lucky and end up with someone who's not so bad." Hermione's lips twitched into a half-smile.

"Maybe you'll even fall in love!" Ginny said with a nudge and a wink.

Doubting Ginny's words but feeling slightly better anyway, Hermione turned to her Potions essay.