A Marriage of Inconvenience

Chapter 1

Hermione resisted the urge to pull her hand from Ron's to wipe her sweaty palm on her robe. She had no reason to be nervous. They'd been planning to do this for months, and today, they'd both been free. Ron had taken the day off from Auror training, and she wasn't scheduled a shift for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement until tonight. If it was like many other evenings, duties would be limited to sitting in the office before the fireplace awaiting an urgent message via owl or Floo that rarely came.

At least she would have time to finish reading Professor Snape's newest article in Alchemica Annals detailing his improvements on the potion St. Mungo's healers had created to keep him alive after Nagini's vicious attack and the subsequent blood loss. She was particularly interested in reading how he had used a modified anticoagulant charm, coupled with the antitoxin, to create the elixir he had to consume daily to stay alive.

It struck her as a tad wrong that she was more eagerly anticipating reading the trade journal than performing the task at hand, but she tried to ignore that thought. She smiled at Mr. Weasley, who had offered to meet them and act as their witness, since his office was just two floors above. It seemed strange to her that one required a witness for a simple verification and license issuance, but she knew from personal experience that Muggles often had just as many strange and quirky bureaucratic steps.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the Ministry's Department of Marriage Licenses and Familial Verifications. Once they finished with this step, there was nothing left to do before the wedding, tentatively scheduled for six weeks from today at the Burrow, besides finish the myriad little details. Why did that thought make her brow bead with perspiration?

She was on nodding familiarity with the wizard manning the front desk. Barley Whizbanger was a diminutive little man, with a long beard that would have rivaled Dumbledore's in color and length, but a bald head. He wore a turquoise robe and hat, perched jauntily across his pate. His bare upper lip, which practically screamed for an impressive mustache to match his beard, curled upward in a bright smile when he saw Arthur Weasley. "How are you today, Arthur?"

"Well, Barley, thanks."

"How's Molly?"

"Still with Bill and Fleur. Baby Victoire isn't much for sleeping through the night yet, so they're run ragged."

"Give it time," advised Barley, though everyone in the office knew he had no children. Not even a cache of nieces and nephews or godchildren. "Now, what can I do for you, Auror Weasley?" Giving Hermione a suggestive grin, he said, "As if I don't know, huh?" His high-pitched giggle made him sound like he'd imbibed a Whistling Wobbler, one of George's newest inventions.

Ron's ears turned bright red. "Not really an auror yet, bloke. Just in training."

Barley waved a hand. "Just a matter of time, you know. As one of Dumbledore's Army, you can write your own ticket, laddie."

Ron looked confused, perhaps unfamiliar with the Muggle saying, which reminded Hermione the older man was from Muggle-born parents, just like her.

"We don't need a ticket, just a license," said Ron, brow wrinkled.

"Big day, big day!" He practically hopped up and down in his excitement, the hat listing precariously. He needed a good Sticking Charm to keep it on. "Come right over here, my dears." He gestured them to a large book at the end of the counter.

Hermione breathed in the scent as he lifted the leather cover to reveal the parchment pages. How she loved books. It didn't matter the subject or the author. She loved Muggle books and wizarding books. Spell books, history books, and even romance books. They all appealed to her—though this particular tome gave her more of a flutter of anxiety than anticipation.