In a review some time ago I got a challenge to write an HG/MM around the marriage, in which our favorite ladies were forced to procreate rather quickly. I decided to give it a go - I know I've got several still open, and I'm working on other ones that I've not even posted, but, well, here you go.

"Is it true, Miss Granger, that you were one of a set of twins?" the grumpy looking Ministry official asked the recently graduated, twenty one year old woman in question.

"Yes, my twin did not survive our birth, however," Hermione replied, unsure of they'd even found out about that. Merlin, she'd never even mentioned it to Harry and Ron. She'd told George, after Fred died in the battle at Hogwarts; she knew, to some extent, how it felt to lose someone you'd shared a womb with. They'd cried together for hours.

"Very good," the older man said. "Then you would be ideal to match with someone who is in need to furthering their line more proactively."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, confused. She'd gotten an Owl this morning to report to the Ministry at once. She'd still been in bed when it came. Assuming it was actually important, she'd jumped out of bed, thrown on the day prior's clothes, and apparated directly to the Ministry atrium. She hadn't even had her morning tea…

"Did you not read this morning's Daily Prophet?"

"I was still sleeping when your summons arrived!" Hermione snapped. "I hardly had time to brush my bloody teeth, let alone sit down to a quiet breakfast with the morning paper!"

"Oh, well, then you've not heard?"

"Heard what?" the young woman asked with trepidation.

"The Marriage Enforcement Law passed last evening," the Ministry man elaborated. "The Ministry will now be pairing off eligible witches and wizards, in interest of perpetuating the wizarding population. It was ever so devastated by the war, you see…"

Hermione winced. She'd known the final vote for that damn law was upcoming, but she'd not realized it was last night. "How are the matches to be decided?" she inquired, knowing there was no getting out of this, and thus, she might as well get as much information as possible."

"Well, we take into account certain preferences you might have…"

"Such as?"

"Well, for starters, would you prefer to be paired to someone of the opposite, or same gender?" the man inquired.

"Same, if humanly possible," Hermione stated, shuddering at the notion, as a lesbian, of being paired with a bloody man.

"Name three features that you would prefer your partner have, physically," the official ordered, holding his quill poised to write.

Well, at least they were being considerate of attraction, Hermione mused. "I'd like a woman who is physically active; I can't abide laziness. I'd like a woman who is my elder by at least a couple of years. And, um… oh I don't know, make her taller than me."

"And personality wise?" another prompt came. "Three items?"

"Intelligence first and foremost," the young witch quickly answered. "Then I suppose I'd want her to be someone who values privacy, and that she be good with children. I have no desire to raise a brood of children alone, and as the purpose here is to procreate, I think it's important that my partner not be someone totally opposed to the existence of potential offspring."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"I know exactly who you should marry, and I'm going to send the recommendation right away!" the man squealed, delighted.

"And who would that be?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Oh, the one woman in the wizarding world who both needs multiple heirs, and everyone on the team deciding the matches has been terrified at the seemingly impossible task of finding someone compatible for."

"I ask again, who?"

"I can't say, officially, until I've spoken to the others," the old man whispered, "but I will give you a hint."

"Alright then..," Hermione said, waiting on baited breath despite herself. This could be either really good, or really bad.

"She's well known for two things; her temper, and her prowess in the field of Transfiguration."

Hermione knew at once to whom he was referring. This was bad. Bad bad. "McGonagall," she whispered, not even doubting her guess.

The official said nothing; just smiled at her. Once upon a time, she might have been relieved, or at least comfortable with the notion of being forced - if one must be forced into such a thing - to marry Minerva McGonagall, but she and her former Professor had not parted on the best of terms. In fact, Hermione thought, cringing, there could hardly have been a worse way to leave her once favorite teacher than the way she had. However, the Headmistress of Hogwarts was not the only one with a temper.

Minerva McGonagall stared at the parchment in her hand, incredulous. She'd spent the last week adjusting to the notion of being married off; she'd been married before, so the idea wasn't totally foreign. Her late wife, Amelia Bones, might have cuffed her ear for the string of vulgarity that had just come out of her mouth, upon reading the name Hermione Granger on the roll of parchment which told her exactly whom she was being forced to marry.

Anyone but her!

The last time she'd seen Miss Granger, the two had gotten into an argument over the lack of education available in the wizarding world for muggleborn students under the age of eleven. Minerva believed that it was a good idea to start a school for muggleborns under eleven, to help the adjustment go smoother, and help prevent all the pureblood prejudices which had largely contributed to to the recent war. She'd spoken to Hermione about it, thinking the intelligent young woman would support the idea wholly, only to be shocked when her star pupil had argued against it, saying that if the purebloods were going to take muggleborns away from their parents even younger than eleven, then they might as well just kidnap them as infants, and save the families the agony of hardly knowing each other. The rant had escalated from there.

Minerva would have been quick to forgive her protege's outburst, because she did understand that point of view as well, except for the part of the story when Hermione drew her wand and hit her Professor with a stinging hex right in the chest, asking if she'd felt the pain; if she had a heart to hurt.

Of course, Minerva had bloody well felt the pain but if she had a heart was a bit on the debatable side at that point. Before she could think, her temper overtook her, and she returned the favor, sending her own stinking hex back at Hermione. At that point, it had turned into a full out duel in the middle of the courtyard, in plain sight of dozens of people. In the end, much to her surprise and wounded ego, Hermione had disarmed her. There was no lasting physical damage, but she wasn't sure she would ever be able to forgive her former pupil for standing there, lording over as Minerva had knelt there on the ground, and said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Now who's the better witch, Pureblood?"

While calling someone a pureblood was certainly not considered vile, as someone being called a mudblood might be, the tone which Miss Granger had used indicated equal disdain for her existence.

"We'll kill each other in a bloody week," Minerva muttered to her office wall.

Gunna go keep writing but had to post this much. Will be publishing in 1k (give or take) sections, split between one Hermione point of view, and one Minerva point of view. PLEASE REVIEW!