With Me

A/N - This story is AU, taking place right after OOTP, after Harry, Ron and Hermione's fifth year at Hogwarts. I just had the idea one day (based partially on a dream actually) and decided to write it even though it has nothing to do with the way things really went after their fifth year. So if you can get past that, enjoy!

"At the end of Harry, Ron and Hermione's fifth year at Hogwarts, the Ministry begins to fall rapidly under the influence of Dark witches and wizards. Their quiet infiltration of the Ministry results in the resurrection of ancient and cruel laws as they find places for them among the modern world, gaining power with each one. Lucius Malfoy's first order of business as the newest and most influential member of the wizarding law committee is to bring back ancient Blood Marriage Law, a marriage by which a pure blood wizard has the means to enslave a Muggle born witch. When the pure blood wizard requests a Blood Marriage, it is more than just a request: it is a demand. The Muggle born witch must comply and is forced to marry the pure blood wizard against her will, bound to him eternally. Hermione just received one of these letters... from Draco Malfoy. And there is only one way to stop it..."

Introduction

Hermione's hands trembled on the letter, her eyes glistening with tears, the moonlight that flowed in through her bedroom window casting the room into a sort of surreal haze. It couldn't be true. It wasn't possible.

She dropped the letter to the floor, a short wave of determination and bravery coursing through her. This wasn't the end. There was hope. It could be a lie. It could be false.

She crossed to her desk in front of the window and reached for her ivory quill, her hands still shaking. As she wrote, she bared down hard on the parchment, hoping to show no signs of her fear through her penmanship. When the letter was complete, she let out a shaky breath and rolled it up. The Ministry owl who had delivered her previous letter was not to be trusted. She could not send him to The Burrow or to the Dursley's. Fortunately, she had just received correspondence from Ron earlier that day. Pig sat on her dresser, unaware that she was preparing to either seal or disprove her terrifying fate by sending this one little letter.

Hermione shooed the Ministry owl out of the open window and waited until he had disappeared deep into the night sky in the opposite direction from where she was about to send her letter. Then finally, she turned back to Pig.

"Pig," she called out, her voice shaky. "I need you to deliver a letter to Ron."

Pig swooped down from Hermione's dresser and held out his leg. As she tied the parchment to Pig's leg, Hermione chanted a calming phrase through her head. It's not true. It's not real. It's not true...

Pig gave a hoot before heading out into the night and Hermione could do nothing now but wait... wait to see where her fate would lie, wait to see if the piece of thick parchment that lay behind her on her bedroom floor was to be her death certificate... or if by some miracle it was all just a dream, just a trick, and she'd soon feel cool relief flood her at Ron's insistent reply that it wasn't true. Her life hinged on this hope, and sitting at her desk, she closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing, in and out, in and out...

*****************************************************

Pig did his part well. He reached The Burrow deep in the night. Ron was fast asleep when the owl's feathers began to tickle his nose.

"Pig..." Ron groaned as he rolled over, still half asleep. "Can't you wait until morning?" But Pig hooted and shook his leg, the letter Pig carried brushing against Ron's cheek. Ron cracked his eyes open at the feel of the parchment on his skin, now more awake as he realized that whoever it was that needed to contact him had made a very frantic attempt if they had sent Pig back with a letter this late. And then it hit him. Hermione. Pig had been with Hermione. She was now trying to contact him.

Ron sat upright in bed with a start and nearly ripped the letter as he jerked it from Pig's leg.

"Why didn't you say you had a letter..." Ron muttered absurdly to the owl as he unrolled Hermione's parchment... but as he read her words, he felt his heart stop. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be real. This was a myth, a story...

Seconds later he was standing over his mother and father's bed, frantically whispering "Dad! Dad!" and shaking him, hoping to rouse him. His father's eyes opened, and as he became conscious of Ron's presence in his room in the middle of the night, he quickly got up from the bed, trying not to wake his wife, but moving as fast as possible in case something was going on that needed his immediate attention. And from the look on Ron's face, it did.

Ron led his father into the hallway, his eyes wide with shock and terror.

"What is it?" Arthur Weasley asked in as cool a tone as he could muster.

"Hermione."

"What's happened?" Mr. Weasley was already making his way down the hall towards the cloak closet.

"Dad, it can't be true. This has to be a lie, some kind of prank or sick joke..."

"What's happened?" Mr. Weasley repeated calmly as he swung his traveling cloak over his shoulders. Ron thrust the letter forward into his father's hands. But the moment his father had finished reading the first sentence, Ron knew it wasn't a joke... "Draco Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley asked in a shaky voice.

Ron stared, terrified, at his father and said nothing, knowing that there was nothing to say, nothing that was necessary.

"Is she at home with her parents?"

Ron nodded.

"Then I'll go and get her and bring her here."

"I'm coming with you," Ron insisted, and to his great surprise, his father did not object.

Mr. Weasley folded Hermione's letter and put it in his pocket, not wanting anyone to find it in the night. And then they were in the front yard, Mr. Weasley gripping his son's arm as he turned on the spot, closed his eyes, and Disapparated them both.

Inside Mr. Weasley's pocket, the letter in Hermione's shakier than usual hand spelled out in very direct terms what had happened, what was going to happen to her if it was real. And Ron's stomach felt sick as he reappeared in a clearing with his father. He wasn't sick from the Apparition this time...

Ron,

I know you will tell me this isn't legitimate, but I've just received a rather disturbing letter from Draco Malfoy informing me that I'm to sign a Blood Marriage with him. Blood Marriage is basically this old wizarding marriage law that says that a Muggle born witch has no rights over herself. If she receives one of these marriage letters, she has no choice but to marry the wizard who sent it and become his slave. There is no way to reverse it.

Now, I know you will know more about this than I will, being part of a pure blood family... at least your father will. I need to know if this is real, if there is any truth to what this has to say. This law was banned centuries ago, and to my knowledge it would never be able to hold up in our current society. But under the circumstances, with the world at war as it is now, I have to be sure. Please contact me as soon as you can. I wouldn't ask or send you a letter this late if it wasn't extremely important. I'm sure I'm just being silly, that it's not real, but I need to know. I have to know.

Hermione

...Ron and his father walked silently through the dark and mostly deserted streets of Muggle London, Ron not quite sure where they were or even how to get to Hermione's house. But he knew that his father would not be leading them blindly. When they finally reached a row of urban three story beige stone homes, Ron's father stopped, scanning the front doors for a number. Finding what he was looking for, he approached the front steps, took a deep breath, and headed up the stairs, Ron just behind him. Ron had a strange feeling as his father knocked softly, then harder on the gray front door... it was as if his life was over, or was just beginning. Either way, he could sense that something was changing, something was about to irrevocably alter his life, and whether for better or for worse, he was completely and utterly unprepared for it.