The Marriage Decree

Chapter 3: Sort out your own problems - Hermione's POV

Having nowhere else to go, and knowing she'll have to tell them sooner or later, she apparates into the alleyway behind her back garden. Her Dad had recently built a gate into the fence so she could walk straight into their garden rather than walk all the way on to the main street and enter via the front door.

She dawdles as she walks down the back garden path to the backdoor, which leads directly into the kitchen. It's around lunchtime so her Dad is most likely sat at the kitchen table reading his newspaper whilst her Mum makes them something for dinner. She peers slyly through the kitchen window to see that exact scene playing out before her.

Sometimes it's nice to have something constant in her life. Her parents have stuck to this Saturday routine since she could remember. After lunch, they'll take Bobby for a walk around their local park then come home for a game of scrabble or monopoly then watch film as they eat their dinner. Saturdays have always been her favourite day.

She takes a deep, steady breath to calm her nerves before opening the backdoor, making her Mum jump on the process.

"Goodness sake Hermione," She shouts, hand resting on her chest. "You scared me half to death." She sighs before pointing her spatula at her. "And just where do you think you've been? You better have a good reason for leaving the house that early. You Dad and I have been worried sick."

Hermione looks over her Mum's shoulder at her Dad who had shrugged at the mention of him being worried sick at her disappearance.

"Mum, I'm nineteen years old." She tries to calm her Mother down so she doesn't dare mention how, technically speaking, she's twenty years old after using the Time Turner for nearly the entirety of her third year. "And I'm a witch. I can defend myself pretty well."

"She's right Sarah," Her Dad interjects. "She fought in a war against some homicidal maniac and his followers without a scratch."

Hermione instinctively covers her forearm where the word 'Mudblood' is carved into it. She chose to never tell her parents about her permanent scaring instead choosing to cover it with long sleeves and makeup. Over the past months it had healed slightly but the word is still visible as sore red marks. A healer at St Mungo's told her that with time it should fade to barely visible white lines.

"She's more than capable of taking care of herself." He carries on.

"I know that Chris." She flaps at him with the tea towel. "But I'm allowed to worry. I'm her Mother."

"Speaking of worrying," Hermione interrupts. "I've got some bad news."

Her Mum's eyes widen, instantly worried, whilst her Dad's gives her a vaguely concerned look. She takes out the Ministry letter she received this morning and hands it to her Dad. Her Mum stands behind him to read it.

"They can't do this. They can't force you into marriage." Her Mum says weakly once she's finished reading.

"What's Azkaban?" Her Dad questions.

"Wizard prison." She explains.

He laughs. "You're a war hero Hermione. They aren't going to send you there for refusing." He tells her confidently.

"They will just to make an example out of me."

Kingsley wouldn't like it but he would sentence her there just so he doesn't appear weak.

"And even if that was true, I don't want any special treatment because of who I am." She shakes her head.

"So that's that. There's nothing you can do. You're going to be married in five months." Her Mum says sadly.

Hermione just nods.

"What about this questionnaire?" Her Dad mentions. "Can't you just say you're currently in a relationship with Harry or Ron or another one of your friends?"