Chapter Text
Sunday January 27, 2002
Lyra watched her twin brother stare daggers into the Ministry owl standing expectantly in front of her, waiting for her to take the letter tied to its leg. It was eyeing a plate of bacon and looked very out of place amongst the finely laid dishes of the Malfoy breakfast table. Draco sighed heavily as he looked from the shabby brown bird to her. She knew the fear reflected in his grey eyes, their eyes, mirrored her own.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Even Theo, Draco’s husband, who talked in his sleep was silent. Lyra’s hands trembled as she untied the unwanted offering, all eyes so focused on the letter that no one seemed to notice when the opportunistic owl snagged a piece of bacon and flew away. She stared down at the wax seal bearing the much-hated Ministry of Magic emblem. Well, much-hated in Malfoy Manor at least.
“I could have an illegal portkey made in twenty minutes,” Theo said with a hopeful lilt to his voice that did not match the clear trepidation on his face.
“Yes, because we already have the Ministry sending us official life-altering letters, why not throw in a summons for illegal magical travel as well?” Draco groused.
“No, Theo. We knew this was coming. The New Year’s edition of the Prophet said the first round of match letters would be sent out the last Sunday of January.” Lyra’s hands had gone from shaking to frozen as they all continued to stare at the unopened letter, no one eager to open it.
Lyra wished she had chosen a different dress that morning. Usually, her choice of long billowing sleeves that buttoned at the wrist made her feel like a glamorous muggle movie star from the 1940’s, but now she felt like she was suffocating in purple silks. She could feel the anxiety induced flush turning her pale skin a blotchy red. She knew it was only a matter of time before she started sweating.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t be in the first round though. I thought the probable backlash would cause Shacklebolt to rethink this ridiculous scheme.” Draco didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his voice.
“We know the need for the marriage law is valid, Draco. You and Theo even voted for it with the rest of the Wizengamot.” Lyra still remembered how somber they were when they came home from the Ministry after the vote four months ago.
She knew it pained them to do it, but the facts were irrefutable. Too many had died during the war and a record low number of marriages and births had been recorded in the almost four years since the final battle. The Ministry was in a justifiable panic that the already small British wizarding population would continue to decline to the point that they would no longer be an effectual part of the wizarding world at large.
“I know we did,” Draco said regretfully, “but we thought the more detailed aspects of the law would also be voted on. We approved a marriage law being instituted, but no other elements of the law were brought to a vote. Instead, Shacklebolt and his Order cronies worked it all out in secret.” He sat up straighter then, hands fisted on the table in frustration. “The public deserved a more transparent process.”
“And the chance to get the hell out of the country.” Theo added as he topped off his orange juice with prosecco with one hand while reaching for a bottle of Grand Marnier with the other. Neither of the twins had seen, nor questioned, how the bottles had come to be on the table nestled between the toast and teapot.
“Are you really making a mimosa right now?!” Draco demanded.
“No, love. I’m making a GRAND mimosa. You can’t tell me the arrival of that wretched letter doesn’t call for something a little stronger than tea and juice.” Lyra noted that with such a generous pouring hand, her beloved brother-in-law’s juice was going to be more than a little stronger.
“I think the fear that people would move abroad was a contributing factor for why the Ministry decided to keep so much of the process a secret." Lyra reasoned, hoping to quell Draco’s growing agitation. "When it comes to the Minister and his cronies, as you call them, brother dear, even you can’t deny that no one could have done a better job at creating the matching charm than Granger.”
“Be that as it may since you refused to leave England you should have, at the very least, let us help you find someone you wanted to marry instead of letting the Ministry make the decision for you. After everything that happened with Narcissa it was all for naught!”
Draco was getting more worked up than Lyra liked to see so early in the morning. She fought a smile as Draco swatted Theo’s hand away, which had been inching toward his husband’s juice glass, no doubt in an effort to make it a little stronger than his now ice-cold tea.
“Too bad Blaise and I were already taken, Ly. We would have married you to save you from whatever fate the Ministry has for you in that letter.” Theo gave a dramatic huff as he shook the sting out of the hand Draco had shown no mercy.
“Oh yes, Theo, because that would have been a much better situation.” Lyra said, rolling her eyes. “Either a husband that spends the majority of his time scouring the world for macabre antiques or one that likes to wax poetic to anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot about how much he loves cock.”
“Lyra. Please don’t say cock at the breakfast table.” Draco begged, as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Theo’s hand, still red from its previous attempt, was able to secure his husband’s juice glass without notice.
“Yes, Lyra. Where have your elegant Pureblood manners disappeared to? You know perfectly well that cock is a much more appropriate topic for afternoon tea.” Theo was putting the finishing touches on the pilfered juice when Draco sighed loudly and looked skyward as if imploring any number of gods to put him out of his misery. Theo, never one to squander an opportunity, took advantage of his husband’s distress and slipped the glass of fortified juice back into its original position undetected.
“To be fair we don’t know that the fate the Ministry has decided for me is bad. In all honesty, if given the choice I would trust their match with Granger’s charm over anyone Narcissa chose. She was much more self-serving than the government could ever hope to be.” Draco met her eyes again with a pained smile.
“Unfortunately, we had to learn the hard way how true that is.” he sighed. “Would you like me to open it for you?” Ever the protective big brother, Lyra thought, even if he is only twenty minutes older.
“No. I chose to stay and be a part of this. No matter who it is, it will be alright. It can’t be any worse than what we’ve already survived right? Right?” Lyra looked at them hopefully, trying to convince herself as much as the two wizards before her. She knew Draco could partly feel her fear though their twin bond and Theo might be foolish, but he wasn’t a fool. And yet, she couldn’t fight her optimistic nature.
“That’s the spirit!” Theo cheered as he knocked back the last of -gods, was that his second mimosa already?
Lyra took a steadying breath as she broke the Ministry seal with one long scarab green nail and unfolded the parchment. She skimmed the letter to find the name of her intended. The details could be combed through later. Her eyes widened, mouth opened slightly in surprise, and her head tilted ever so slightly to the right, which was her habit whenever she was trying to puzzle something out.
“Huh.” Was all she said as she flopped, inelegantly back in her chair, passing the letter to her left. Draco’s brow furrowed as he took the letter from her, not knowing what to make of the dazed look on her face.
“Who is it?!” Theo was practically bouncing out of his chair with anticipation, but Lyra was lost in thought and barely heard him.
“Well, well. This is going to cause quite the stir. I didn’t even know he was single. Do you think Shacklebolt saw the results before the letters were sent out?” Draco asked, mainly to himself.
“WHO IS IT?!” Theo was getting frustrated though not enough to deter him from assembling his third mimosa –please, let it only be his third.
“There’s no way the Ministry will let this stand.” Draco’s confidence brought Lyra out of her pondering, and she looked at him incredulously.
“They have to let it stand, Draco. Can you imagine the public uproar if the Ministry allowed him, of all people, to change his match?” Draco seemed to consider this and offered only a nod in response.
“I would never have guessed it would be him, but you have to admit that I couldn't have hoped for someone better. He will at the very least be kind to me. It is ironic that it was Granger’s charm that matched us though.” Lyra said almost talking to herself before focusing on Draco again.
“Brother, I think everything might actually be alright.” Lyra smiled as she started to feel the slightest bit of hope work its way through the icy dread that had been weighing her down since the owl flew into the solarium that morning.
“For fuck’s sake! WHO. IS. IT?!” Theo’s limited patience had finally run out as he snatched the letter from his husband.
Draco returned his sister’s smile with one of his own. The sound of Theo’s cackling filled the room as the twins shared a moment of relief and cautious optimism. Draco reached for his orange juice, took a large sip, and immediately started choking.
“Merlin’s shriveled COCK, Theo!” he gasped as the shock of the unexpected tampering gave way to a familiar annoyance.
Lyra couldn’t help but laugh as she watched her brother-in-law run giggling from the table, trying to escape his husband’s faux fury, waving the letter above his head as Draco gave chase.
She grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate nibbling on it as she began to consider how for the first time in a long time, thanks to the Ministry of all things, she was hopeful about her future and the promise now held there.
She couldn’t imagine a better morning.
“HERMIONE!!” Harry came tumbling out of the floo of the Granger-Weasley flat, a mess of soot and rage, clad only in the grey joggers he’d slept in the night before. The Ministry letter was being crushed in his white-knuckled fist as he waved it at his best friends, who had come running from the kitchen to see what was wrong.
“Harry, mate, are you okay?!” Ron asked, still chewing a mouth full of eggs and toast.
“No! I’m not fucking okay. I just got my gods-damned match letter from the Ministry!” Hermione gave a squeak as Harry’s angry eyes narrowed on her and she shared a concerned sideways glance with her husband.
“I almost forgot that the first round of letters was going out today.” Hermione said lightly, regretting it immediately as Harry’s already red face turned a couple of shades darker.
“Of course, you almost forgot because it doesn’t affect you at all, does it? You two are married, so this stupid fucking law won’t ruin your life!” Harry seethed.
“Now Harry, that's not fair. You know that already married couples are held to the same requirements for having children as arranged couples, so our lives will definitely be affected. Two children within four years isn’t something to take lightly.” Hermione’s initial shock at Harry's display of temper and state of undress so early in the morning was easily pushed aside at the opportunity to lecture.
“Oh please, you two were going to have kids anyway. Two kids within the next four years instead of the next five or six isn’t really that much of a burden, is it? At least you’re having them with the partner you chose for yourself instead of having the government choose them for you with some ridiculous charm!”
As Harry went to remove the floo soot from his shoulders, he realized that in his fury he had left his wand behind. He waved his hand across his torso, vanishing the soot without saying a word. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when Hermione’s hands went to her hips as she took a deep breath. Great, here we go, Harry thought.
“RIDICULOUS CHARM?! Harry James Potter, I designed that charm myself! Are you doubting my abilities with arithmancy and magical theory?” Hermione’s hair had started to sizzle a bit as it always did when someone dared to question her work. Ron had finally swallowed -Merlin, always eating- and Harry could see the panic in his eyes as he took in his wife’s outraged state.
“Hermione, I know you’re good at whatever you do, but that doesn’t mean that something as crucial and personal as this can be decided by a damn charm. I don’t care if you created an entire new bloody branch of arithmancy in the process. There's no way THIS witch is my most compatible match.”
He had started waving the letter so close to her face that, if he had been more clear headed, he would have been worried it might catch fire from the sparks now steadily coming from Hermione’s hair.
“Harry, mate, it can't be that bad of a match. Oh gods, it’s not Marietta Edgecombe, is it?” Ron’s eyes lit up with Weasley mischief at the thought. “I saw her a couple of weeks ago and she still has ‘sneak’ scarred across her face. That would really make family dinners awkward, eh, Mione?” Ron chuckled to himself, ignoring his wife and best friend’s annoyed looks in his direction.
“No, Ron, it’s not Marietta Edgecombe. It’s Lyra FUCKING Malfoy!” The declaration caused Hermione’s hands to drop from her hips and her hair cooled instantly. Ron was stunned into silence, which was rare when his mouth wasn’t overstuffed with food.
Hermione just blinked at him for a few moments before she started shaking her head furiously and said, “No. That can’t be right. Whoever they put in charge of the matches in the Department of Mysteries must have done something wrong.”
She had started pacing and Harry knew she was lost in her head when she started mumbling about calculations and how she should have been allowed to run the program. When he heard her mutter something about having him rematched his temper, which had been waning, flared again.
“It’s too late, Hermione!” Harry yelled, stopping her pacing abruptly. He waved the offending letter as if she needed to be reminded of its existence.
“It’s on record with the Ministry that she’s my match. There’s no going back and changing it now!” Harry felt some of his anger bleed out of him as he looked at his friends' concerned faces.
“I know this isn’t all your fault, but Ginny’s not here to take the blame for her role in this clusterfuck, now is she?” he said with a frustrated sigh.
At the mention of Ginny, Harry could see Ron brace himself. Harry knew the battle to be a supportive friend and a loyal brother had been torture for Ron the past month. Even if Ginny was fully in the wrong, the familial instinct was resolute.
“I’m still going to double-check the results, just to make sure.” Hermione said as she shifted into problem solving mode. “I’ll have to convince the Unspeakables to allow me access. It won’t be easy, but I don’t want you stuck with that horrible family.” She gave Harry a sympathetic look and he knew that she had already forgiven him for yelling.
“I’ll go now and I’ll meet you both at the Burrow in time for brunch.” As Hermione rushed off to her and Ron’s bedroom to change, the two wizards shared an awkward look.
“I really am sorry about everything, Harry.” Ron mumbled, no longer able to keep eye contact with his friend.
“Ron, I don’t want to hear another gods-forsaken apology from you or anyone else in your family.” Harry said as he tried to keep his temper from surging again. “You didn’t lie and cheat on me for months and you didn’t end an almost four-year relationship three days before Christmas and a week before the Ministry deadline for this marriage law shit.” Ron nodded, still not looking at him.
Harry suddenly felt exhausted. He didn’t know if it was from this morning’s outburst or the overwhelming weight of his life catching up with him. He sat on the couch, finally letting go of his death grip on the letter, letting it drift to the coffee table as he put his head in his hands. Ron sat next to him and gave a comforting pat to Harry’s knee.
“Mate, I know I can’t apologize for what my sister did. Hell, even a time turner wouldn't be enough for her to fix this mess, but I’m just so sorry for how miserable you’ve been since it happened.” Ron said, his bright blue eyes full of concern.
“To be fair I was pretty miserable before she left too.” Harry muttered with a weak laugh.
“Yeah, but you were trying to work on things with her.” Ron frowned, noticing the toast crumbs on his shirt. He continued as he brushed them to the floor. “It’s just now with this Malfoy match I’m worried it’s only going to spiral. You remember how bad it was for all of us after the war. I don’t want to see you getting bogged down by all that darkness again.”
“I know, but I don't think there’s any way out of this one, mate.” Harry sighed, sitting up just as Hermione stomped back through the living room to the floo.
She seemed determined as ever to do something to fix a situation that had just been declared unfixable. She didn’t even pause to speak to them before she threw a handful of floo powder into the fire, stepped into the hearth as it changed color, and called out Ministry of Magic before disappearing into a swirl of green smoke.
Harry and Ron sat in silence watching the flames for a few minutes before Ron spoke again. “I know you hate playing the Chosen One card Harry, but in this case, I think you have to. I mean, can you really see yourself…you know...” Ron couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Married to a Malfoy?” Harry finished. Ron shuddered in response before changing the subject completely. His favorite way to deal with difficult conversations.
“Well, do you want something for breakfast, mate, or maybe a shirt? No one needs to see your stupid abs or those bloody tattoos this early in the morning. Or ever.” Ron said, getting up and heading back into the kitchen.
“We're going to brunch at the Burrow in less than two hours.” Harry said dumbfounded.
Ron was undeterred as he cast a warming charm on his abandoned plate, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth, not even bothering to sit down before turning back to Harry with a perplexed look on his face.
“You can’t go to brunch on an empty stomach, Harry. You have to have a little something first or you’ll eat too much too quickly and then not get through as much as you could have.” Ron stated like that should be obvious as he walked over to the kettle to get a fresh cup of tea going.
“Some of us just eat until we’re satisfied, Ron. We don’t all treat it like a marathon.” Harry sighed as he grabbed the Ministry letter, balled it up, and threw it into the fire.
All he could think as he watched it burn was how he couldn’t imagine a worse morning.