Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: With Voldemort gone and the Second War finished the Wizarding world has to say goodbye to many loved ones. So, why after the War does the retiring Minister for Magic implement a Marriage Law? Draco/Hermione, Harry/Pansy, Ron/Luna

COMPOSITORIS AMOR

PROLOGUE

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

He let out a cry of outrage as he sped through the forest. The bare branches of the trees slapping him in the face as punishment for his wrong doings, hoping that they'd slow him down by helping him remember. Hoping that by punishing him he'd slow down and think of penance. No matter how much nature — the trees in particular — were punishing him he did not stop. His hand squeezed the more feminine one he held and he felt a squeeze back. There was no way he was turning back not after all the heartache and pain he had been through to get to this point. No, he would not let Voldemort die by Potter's hand without watching it with his own two eyes. His father be damned; he would not let his only opportunity to watch the man who wrecked havoc on his life perish without having the pleasure of hearing the scream of agony that would escape his snake-like lips.

The footsteps behind him were drawing closer and he knew that he was slowing down. Pulling the petite girl closer to him he picked up his pace. There was the clearing right ahead; he could see the sunlight streaming through the clump of branches. And slowly he stopped running and the footsteps behind him were pounding on the ground so loudly he thought it was his heartbeat, thumping in his chest.

Thump bump... thump bump ... thump bump.

He was wrong, though. He could hear their hollow breathing; he knew his companions were tired, but he still pushed them. He had told them that they would not miss this day... he told them they were not going to miss the Final Battle. He told them that they would escape his father's prison to witness the day of Voldemort's demise. He squinted his eyes and walked closer but felt a hand pull him back.

"It's okay," he mumbled, "we're safe now; no need to worry."

The hand slowly dropped from his shoulder and he stepped forward. He closed his eyes in shock when he stepped on something and heard a crack. His breathing became heavy as he peered at what he stepped on. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. Nearly. He shook his head wondering if the other Weasleys new that someone from their clan was dead. The dead body of Percy Weasley did not stop him from his mission, and apparently, it did not deter his companions as he had thought. He could hear Pansy's complaints as she walked behind him; she too was disturbed by the dead body.

There. He saw what he was looking for. In the middle of the open area stood Potter and the Dark Lord himself, Voldemort. They were enclosed in a magical dome that everyone who saw it just stopped and stared. They watched as Voldemort and The-Boy-Who-Lived battle it out for the win. The victory... both wanted to come out the victor. That was not going to happen. And before it even registered in his mind the battle was over. The Light had won. Potter had unleashed some kind of hidden power... some kind of spell that purged the world of the Dark Lord. Soon Wizards and Witches screaming their victory would cover the streets! Screaming and shouting their survival.

He too would celebrate. For the Dark Lord was dead and he was free. Free to do as he pleased and free from his ever demanding father. His lips spread into a slow smile and he turned around to face his companions. Pansy, Blaise and Theodore were just as astounded as he. Though, it did not matter. He was free; they all were free.

Draco knew that this story would be told over and over again. Passed down from one generation to the next. What he did not know was that the story of the Final Battle will not be the only story told and passed down through the generations. No, there was another story in the making that would be re-told as often as possible. The story of the Marriage Law. These two stories combined would not only shatter the Wizarding world but also shape a new one. For better or for worse these two stories were called: Compositoris Amor

- - -

"I do not approve of this decision, Cornelius." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was absent. He regarded the man sitting in front of him through his periwinkle, blue eyes. Cornelius Fudge had grown much older throughout the war, not much could be said about his intelligence, however.

"I was not seeking for your approval, Albus," Cornelius said wearily, fiddling with his bowler's hat.

"Then, you are aware that not many people will support you on this, as well?"

"Quite aware, Dumbledore."

"Then why do it, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked in a calm voice. He may be putting up a strong front now but he may not be able to contain himself soon. This man... was putting his students in danger. He'd be damned before he'd allow Fudge to do that. No, letting him create this ludicrous mess would be a wrong move on his part. "If you are aware that all of United Kingdom would be after you why create such a disaster? Why create this law?"

"I have no other choice, Dumbledore I already told you," Fudge said in a barely audible whisper. "I have no choice in the matter at hand." Fudge was absently staring at his hands, which were trembling as one's hands would if they were pushed over the edge. He then lifted his head to stare up at Dumbledore helplessly, unspent tears shining clearly in his dull, brown eyes. "If I had any other choice, Albus... I ... I would take it. As it is, my good friend, there is no other way out of this mess that I — as well as the other Ministers — have created."

"Cornelius! There is a choice! You always have a choice."

"No, Albus, I'm afraid there is no choice." Fudge made a move to stand up from his chair, but decided against it. He couldn't look at Dumbledore any longer. It was too hard to stare such a respectable man in the face especially when they were so disappointed in you.

"Cornelius, listen to yourself," Dumbledore said frustrated. "You and the other Ministers for Magic have done so much for your countries. Are you telling me that because you are all in such a terrible rut that you're all giving up? As a nation leader, Cornelius, you have got to take chances; you have got to take risks! What you are doing is not the kind of chances and risks that you should be taking. What you should be doing is start building the country that Lord Voldemort destroyed." Dumbledore did not take any notice when Fudge shuddered at the sound of Voldemort's name.

"You don't understand the whole situation, Albus."

"Enlighten me."

"It's... complicated, Albus." Fudge was stalling. It was evident to Dumbledore as he started fiddling with his damn bowler hat, again.

"Like I said before, Cornelius, enlighten me."

Fudge, who knew a losing battle when he saw one, sighed and started his tale. It had been a week after the Final Battle when he had been approached by one of the top Healers at St. Mungo's. The Healer had been nervous as he sat down at the available chair in front of his desk. Fudge gave the man a comforting smile, which he returned ... sort of. The Healer didn't miss a beat as he launched into the reason as to why he had come to 'pay him a visit'; needless to say the visit wasn't a pleasant one. The information that Healer Bent had presented him was mortifying ... it wasn't even possible.

After the war Fudge had thought that families would be able to rebuild themselves, that younger Witches and Wizards would be born; yet, that would not happen at all. Healer Bent had thrown away his hopes... the documents in front of him were incredibly troublesome. After Healer Bent had left his office and Fudge was sure that he was out of hearing range he threw the documents across the room and let out a scream of outrage. Tears were trying to escape him, however he refused to let them fall. And as he looked out of his office window he smiled at the celebrations going on. His country ... his country that he had worked so hard — though it may not seem like it — to protect was slowly falling apart. Ever so slowly... And when he'd announce the whole entire situation to the Wizarding world they would go back into mourning. They would go back to hiding and blaming him for everything they had lost.

I'm very sorry to report, Minister but there is a grave matter that must be seen to at once.

And a grave matter it was.

The number of squibs being born into Pureblood families will be increasing incredibly fast within the next few months.

And one would think that the thought alone was absurd! Yet, he was proved wrong again.

It appears that the after effect of Potter's defeat of You-Know-Who has chosen to hurt our world in the most devastating manner.

Oh, and devastating it was.

It seems that You-Know-Who did not leave this world without one final curse. He has cursed the Pureblood families, the ones extremely proud of their status and ones who really did not care that their blood was pure. Here the Healer ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. There is no cure for this, Minister... You-Know-Who used the last bits of Potter's magic that killed him to his advantage.

The Minister was confused. How could the evil sucker do that? Was it possible to manipulate someone's magic at the verge of death? Heck, Fudge did not even know that it was possible to manipulate someone's magic.

Purebloods and Purebloods cannot marry into one another's family any longer, unless they want to produce squibs. It has come to our department's attention that if two Pureblood Wizards and Witches consummate and create a child, the child will be a squib. There are no leeways and there is nothing that any Healer can do, not even Dark Magic will be able to help us now.

You-Know-Who used Potter's magic to his desires and let the magic transfer into all Purebloods. When he did this he attached a curse. Any offspring from any of the Purebloods will be squibs.

The lovely thing about it was that Healer Bent had a solution.

All purebloods must marry Muggle-born or Half-Blood children.

There was no other choice.

Will Half Bloods be affected, as well? He had asked.

No, not likely. If a Half-Blood and a Half-Blood marry, they won't run into any trouble because of their Muggle heritage. Just like a Half-Blood and Pureblood marrying, they won't run into any trouble... but the cost of their offspring being a squib will be high but highly unlikely.

The Minister for Magic didn't want to hear anymore. His country... the United Kingdom ... the Wizarding world of the United Kingdom was slowly coming to an end. Yet, he hadn't heard the worst of it.

We are not the only ones affected.

More bad news was surely to follow. And Healer Bent did not disappoint him.

The whole world... the entire Wizarding world has been affected. You-Know-Who did not want to leave the world without plunging it into another, horrible depression.

The Minister for Magic had then ordered the Healer to leave... which he complied with doing so. This left the Minister for Magic at his current position; staring listlessly out of the window wondering how he was to break the news to his country.

It was then that the Ministers for Magic from Bulgaria, France, Greece and Italy had stumbled into his office. They told him what they had learned ... and it broke Fudge's heart. And, by the look on his face the others knew that he had already been informed.

"Vhat about za Americas?" the Minister for Magic from Bulgaria asked, his face looking worn and weary.

"If their respective Ministers have not been informed they will be soon," Fudge answered.

"My people will not take ze news very well, Fudge. Zey will cause a mess... a huge, huge mess."

"So will mine."

"What is left to do, I ask you? There is nothing. We have nothing..." The Italian Minister for Magic twitched his bushy moustache in disgust.

"Unless we marry off our people, which will not happen," The Greece Minister for Magic spoke quietly. "Can you imagine if we did so? The whole Wizarding world would go into an uproar... we would have to resign soon afterwards."

"I'd be willing to resign if that ever happened," said Fudge bitterly, "do you know how much pain and heartache my people went through because of You-Know-Who? The fact that most, if not all, the Death Eaters lived in my country…" He never finished his sentence; the other Ministers knew what he meant.

And, it was true. The United Kingdom suffered a hell of a lot more then any of the countries ever did.

"We all suffered, Minister Fudge," the Italian Minister smiled, trying to offer Fudge some comfort a gesture that warmed Fudge completely.

"I know, which is why I cannot do anything drastic to put my people in low spirits. They're celebrating the fact that they survived the second threat of Voldemort..."

"Vhatever our decision vill be..."

"Will not be an easy one."

And so the five Ministers for Magic sat in silence. They were all contemplating the soon-to-be fate of their countries and wondering when the Americas were going to contact them. For, it would be soon that they would receive the onslaught of their anger... Not one of the Ministers wanted to get up, get a quill and piece of parchment paper to write down their findings to the other Ministers for Magic. They thought it best to sit and wait in silence and ponder their options. After what seemed like hours, but in reality were only a few minutes, the sound of flames licking the fireplace reverberated throughout the room.

And, as if on cue, the remaining Ministers for Magic stepped through.

"My office has officially become a house party for all political figures," Fudge muttered.

The Minister for Magic from Canada ignored Fudge's comment and said, "I take it you all heard the latest development in our world today?" With a nod from everyone she continued, "Then you all realise that we must come to a rational decision that our people will appreciate?"

"Really, Elizabeth, there is no need to reiterate what they all must have said to each other."

"Yes, I know, George but it must be said while everyone is in the room." Elizabeth — the Minister for Magic from Canada — gave George — the Minister for Magic from America — a withering look.

"Please, please, no fighting," the Greek Minister said. "We have all experienced the wonders of such a notion for quite a long time now."

They all gave a slight nod, once again remembering Voldemort.

"Is there a cure?" one Minister asked. Fudge didn't know where they were from. Typical, he thought.

"As far as I know there isn't a —"

"If I may interrupt, Minister Fudge, there is a solution that will eliminate the curse."

Fudge raised an eyebrow. There already was a solution...

"If we were to pair a Pureblood and a Muggle-born together or a Pureblood and a Half-Blood together, and they procreate... the problem will be solved."

"We already thought of that!" the Greek Minister exclaimed. "We will be kicked out of our offices faster then you can say Quidditch! We cannot marry off our people! Not only will they protest, but also they will murder us. You are insinuating that we pair off random people together so that they are able to procreate, are you not?"

"Yes, I am, Minister." The Canadian Minister narrowed her eyes.

"Basically," the American Minister said trying to stray the others attention, "ever since I found out — which was three days ago — I gathered all the top Healers in my country. They locked themselves up and found that those with Muggle lineage are not affected, which you already knew. If you were all to logically think about it, once Purebloods have an ounce of Muggle blood in them... they'd be free from this curse."

"Then they'd just marry some random Muggle whore!" Fudge roared. "Do you think that a Pureblood family, like the Malfoys for instance, would allow their Pureblood lineage to actually have Muggle blood? They'd rather marry another Pureblood and take the chance of having their offspring be squibs!"

"Then we'd have to make it mandatory, won't we?"

It was the first time that the Australian Minister had spoken since the discussion started. Now, they were all looking at her as if she'd lost her marbles.

"Mandatory!" The Italian Minister hissed. "Are you crazy? They'd hang us with no sympathy!"

"I'd rather be hung then watch them suffer," the Australian Minister said. "Do you know how many squibs will be born into our world if we don't take action now? Do you? Honestly, I don't give a rat's arse. If we do not force them to marry Purebloods, Muggle-borns or Half Bloods our world will be extinct. There will be no Magic, no more spells, no more Magical schools. We may be putting them in more heartache, but our world won't be so Magical anymore if we put their bloody feelings before anything. We need think about what's best for our countries not about how they will feel. Do you know why? Do you? Because if we put what they feel before what is best for our countries ... Do I even have to explain?

There is a chance that Muggle-borns and Half-Bloods will get married and procreate or Muggle-borns or Half Bloods will marry into Pureblood families, and the fact that new Muggle-borns will enter our world, but we cannot even consider on those our options! As far as I see it we have two options. One: We force the whole, entire Wizarding world into marriage or two: we sit here, do nothing, tell our people and let them figure out what to do by themselves."

When she finished the room was silent. No one dared to move or speak. They all realised that what she said was true. Did they want to put the feelings of their countries ahead of what's best? Or, risk the fact that they might get sacked and defeat the curse that good, old Voldemort created? To them... the latter sounded like a better option.

"Let's say we do go through with this," Fudge said cautiously, "how will we select who marries whom? We cannot do it randomly."

"Compositoris Amor."

When Fudge had finished retelling his story to Dumbledore he dared to look in the elders eyes. What he saw was nothing short of what he expected.

"I don't approve, Cornelius." Dumbledore sighed and stroked his bread. "However, I understand that you had no other options left, and I am thankful that you decided to inform me of this situation before the Daily Prophet got hold of this. I will not stand next to you on this decision and when asked my opinion, Cornelius, I'll have to go against you."

"I expected nothing else."

"You understand you will be sacked?"

"Fully understand, Albus." Fudge stood up now and dusted off invisible dust off of his trousers. "I have already resigned from this position and appointed my successor."

Albus Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise; he had not been expecting this. "If I may inquire: who did you choose to be your successor?"

"Arthur Weasley."

"And the spell?"

"All in due time, Albus," Fudge whispered, twisting the doorknob. "All in due time."

END PROLOGUE

"Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be."

Let It Be – The Beatles