"What are we going to do?" asked Harry, pulling Ginny into his lap on one of the overstuffed armchairs that sat either side of the fire. He looked up at the four Weasley brothers who had followed them into The Burrow's living room. Charlie and Ron sat at opposite ends of the sofa, while Fred and George positioned themselves against the wall, leaning towards each other like overgrown human bookends.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ginny. "The marriage law is immutable. As a muggle-born witch, Hermione has to marry a Pureblood wizard before the end of the summer. The news will be released first thing Monday, so she has until tomorrow evening to register a suitable engagement with the Ministry and avoid being affected by the law. And if she doesn't, there's a danger she'll find herself paired with one of the remaining death eaters."

She stared at the row of brothers in front of her. "So we're agreed? One of you needs to marry her."

"Unreal," said Ron, shaking his head. "I can't believe Percy didn't warn us sooner."

"The fact that he managed to give me this much notice is brilliant," sighed Hermione as she entered the room, carrying a pottery mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a plate of warm biscuits in the other. "Your mum says they're only just out of the oven, by the way." She placed the biscuits on the coffee table and sat back in the empty armchair, watching the redheaded men jokingly elbow each other out of the way as they reached for the treats.

Ginny turned to her best friend with a smile.

"We'll make it OK, 'Mione. If there's truly no way out of it, like you say, we'll make you a Weasley and protect you that way. No-one's going to do anything bad to you ever again."

Ginny glanced at Hermione's arm, not wanting to remember how the young witch had been tortured during the war. They had all been through such difficult times, losing beloved friends and for a while not knowing whether Fred would come out of the coma he had ended up in after a wall had collapsed on him. It seemed so unfair that, just as peace was beginning to settle, the falling magical birth rate had led to the passing of a new law ensuring the procreation of children and the intermingling of different types of magical blood. It was even less fair that Hermione Granger, war heroine, was in imminent danger of becoming a pawn in the politics of the Ministry of Magic. No, Ginny thought. We can stop this.

"OK," said the redheaded witch, sitting up straighter in her own fiancé's lap and looking at her brothers determinedly in turn. "Hermione's decision. Who's going first?"

"'Mione," Charlie began, settling back on the sofa. "I'll gladly marry you if you'd take me. You're funny and clever; I love talking to you. Reckon we'd get on brilliantly, so if you think I'm the Weasley for you, I will drop down on one knee right now and carry you off into the sunset when I go back to the reserve after mum's solstice dinner."

He rubbed the stubble on his cheek, pausing for a moment. "I don't have any experience of long-term relationships, though. Unless they're with dragons. I'll try my best, but I ought to be honest with you about it, love."

Hermione chuckled, and the tension in the room dropped a notch or two.

"Charlie, I love you. And if my new husband, whoever he may be, ever cheats on me, then I'm coming straight to you for a torrid affair under the Romanian stars, OK?"

Charlie laughed loudly. "Fine by me, lovely. That I can do."

"But stop worrying," she continued. "I don't want to marry anyone who doesn't truly want it. That's why I don't know if we should even continue…" She looked at the assembled boys. It wasn't fair that this was happening, and it wasn't fair that one of them had to give up their chance at love to protect her. It was too much, too sudden. She sipped her hot chocolate, pondering what to do.

"It's OK, 'Mione" said Ron, reaching out his hand towards her, offering a level of reassurance and maturity that he wouldn't have been capable of before the war took so many of those they cared about. "I'll marry you. You and I make more sense than you and any of these guys. I know it didn't work out so well when we went out after the final battle, but we can figure it out if it protects you from a death eater, right?"

"Ron…" Hermione struggled to decide what to say next. "I love you as well, but as a friend. We'll never make the right kind of sense for a marriage. Not a happy one. And I've seen the way you look at Luna. I'm not getting in the way of your happiness. But thank you." She sighed.

Ron looked as if he was going to argue, but closed his mouth as he felt George's hand on his shoulder.

"Hermione," started George. "If you choose me, then I will love you to the best of my ability and for the rest of my life."

His eyes locked upon hers as he took a deep breath.

"But I would be doing you a massive disservice if I didn't tell you the truth. And the truth is that I have a brother who has been in love with you since fifth year. You ought to know that before any of us get any deeper into this conversation."

Hermione's eyes flicked to Ron's, and found her confusion reflected in his.

"Not your fifth year," George continued. "His fifth year".

Hermione felt even more confused. That didn't make sense. She and Ron had been in the same year at Hogwarts. So George had to be talking about another brother. But how could that be? She couldn't dare hope that it was the Weasley brother for whom she had held a torch for six years; the brother who had once lent her his – well technically George's – old Christmas jumper when she grew cold watching them play quidditch behind The Burrow one bright autumn day; the brother who she secretly watched, hoping but never really believing that he might see how she had grown up since her days of lecturing them about their pranks. On this day of ill wind, she surely couldn't be that lucky?

A movement to her right caught her attention and brought her out of her reverie, as Fred shifted his weight and opened his mouth to speak. His chance was lost, however, when George cast a spell which silenced him.

"Freddie," he spoke softly as he looked at his twin. "The time is now, mate. If there was ever a time, it's now. But I'm going first so you can't bollocks it up. Forgive me."

"George?" said Hermione. "What's going on?"

"If you picked me, I would love you well, 'Mione. Really, I would," George continued, running his fingers through his hair. "And Ron or Charlie would treat you right too, I know they would. Heck, we all already love you as a sister; we always will. But please, pick Fred. Fred will treasure you, unconditionally and forever."

Hermione swallowed. Could it really be true? The tall, funny, gorgeous man she had wanted for as long as she could remember … could he really be interested in her too? She wanted to look at him, so badly, but she just couldn't do it; she was afraid she might be misinterpreting George's words.

"He's been in love with you for years. Have you never noticed how he watches you when you're tucked up on the sofa with your nose in a book?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she listened to George. She shook her head.

"Never wondered who used to cover you with blankets when you fell asleep studying in the common room? Godric, he'd do anything to make you happy and, bugger me, I'm sounding like a right sap here, so can you please just look into his eyes instead of mine and see for yourself?"

Hermione swallowed again and slowly turned her gaze to Fred. The elder twin was still unable to speak, thanks to George's spell, but he took a couple of steps towards Hermione, bowed, and reached his hand out towards her. He waited silently until she stood, took his hand in both of hers and leaned her face into it so that he could tangle his long fingers into her curls. She let out a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Ginny squealed and Hermione heard her whisper, "I knew it; mum's gonna be beside herself" into Harry's ear before the dark-haired wizard laughingly told her to shush.

"Is it really true?" Hermione asked, now not moving her eyes from Fred's.

"Totally and utterly," George helpfully continued. "He's crazy about you. You'd be doing me a massive favour if you took him off my hands. 'Part from anything else, he might be able to concentrate better when he's making daydream charms, rather than imagining moonlit broomstick rides with you cuddled between his thighs."

As George began to gesticulate wildly with his arms, pantomiming his lovesick brother flying on an imaginary broom while kissing the air, Charlie and Ron's laughter took his attention, allowing Fred to cast a non-verbal spell. George immediately grabbed his behind with one hand and turned when he felt the stinging hex his now blushing twin had sent towards it.

"Please," Fred mouthed to George, pointing to his throat. George immediately undid the silencing spell, nodding with encouragement.

"Go on then, mate."

"It's true," Fred said, looking back to Hermione and searching her eyes for a reaction to the revelations. "I was scared to tell you. Scared you wouldn't feel the same and things would change. But Georgie's right. I would treasure you. I've wanted to be with you for a long time. Is there any chance you'd be OK with that?"

Tears filled Hermione's eyes.

Confusion filled Fred's.

She saw his reaction and now it was her turn to cradle his cheek in her hand.

"No," she smiled. "They're happy tears. I've been crazy about you since you lent me your jumper. It smelled like amortentia did in potions class, and I realised then that you were the wizard I wanted. But I was scared too. I was worried you'd reject me. I'm not exactly –"

"Bloody hell," said Ron, while Charlie snorted loudly. "So you've been in love with each other for years, and both been too scared to do anything about it? How the heck did the Sorting Hat let you into Gryffindor?"

Hermione laughed softly. "Good question, but I can't worry about that now. I've got a decision to make. At least I think I have," she faltered, looking at Fred. "Have I?"

George, whose bum now seemed fully recovered, stepped forward and nudged his twin in the back of the knee, urging him to drop into the time-honoured position. "Go on then," he said. "Or do I need to do this bit for you as well?"

"I think I'll be alright from here thanks, mate," winked Fred, before turning back to Hermione.

"Gorgeous and brilliant Hermione, witch of my dreams," he began. "I know this probably isn't the proposal you were expecting, and it's rather sooner than we might have wanted, but I do truly care for you. I think I might even love you, and I can't bear the thought of you marrying any of these gits," he waved his arm in the direction of his brothers, "let alone a death eater, and I can't imagine anyone I would rather dive into this crazy situation with. Will you marry me?"

Hermione leaned forward and kissed his lips softly.

"Absolutely," she breathed. "But you need to know one thing first."

Fred cocked his head. "What's that then?"

"Anything less than the level of devotion George has promised, and I'm off to Romania to have that affair with Charlie."

"Alright then," he laughed. "How about we start tonight? I know a cosy restaurant where we can have supper by the sea and then a moonlit broomstick ride home? We'll make a quick stop at the Ministry on the way to get the paperwork filed."

"That sounds just perfect." Hermione smiled into Fred's lips as he turned his head and captured her mouth more fully. He teased her lips with his tongue before weaving both of his hands into her hair and pulling her back down into the armchair with him. Before she snuggled down into Fred's lap, she reached out for George's hand and gave it a squeeze. He leaned down to her ear. "You're welcome, love," he said. "But if I were you, I'd sneak away soon before mum gets wind that you're finally going to be a Weasley."