Chapter 1- Compulsory

Emlyn stepped out of the shower, taking care not to slip on the slick, grey tiles. It had been weeks since they threw out the tattered old floor mat that had occupied the space on which she was now standing for nearly ten years before she even knew Remus. It had taken little to convince the man to be rid of it, thin and worn as it was, but neither of them had put much effort into getting a new one. Moving carefully to grab her towel off of the covered toilet bowl, she made a mental note- before she fell and broke her neck on the slippery tiles, she would really have to buy a new mat.

With a sigh, she slipped on her panties and bra, taking a second to examine herself in the foggy mirror. Like this, with the glass plastered with minuscule water droplets, she looked only like a blur of a creamy color, darkened by the dim bathroom lighting. Her scarred right hand reflexively clenched into a fist, remembering a time when she had really wanted to be nothing more than a blur. How long ago was that? she thought to herself, Two years ago? Three, already? An overwhelming feeling of nausea slid through her body, culminating into a sharp pain in the pit of her stomach. She was sure that this ill feeling wasn't because of the result of what happened three years ago, because she had actually landed a better fate than most. It was because of the fact that it happened at all.

The wizarding world was in an uproar when Kingsley Shacklebolt announced the enactment of the Marriage Law to the press. In the beginning, the act had sounded innocent enough, with such a general and non-threatening title. Marriage Law. It wasn't anything that they had to worry about, surely. Such acts were drafted and passed through the legal system constantly, usually outlining small changes internally- which office would handle the change of surname, whose signatures were needed to nullify a marriage, and the like. This law seemed no different, which is why it had already made its rounds through the Ministry system by the time the populace started to truly understand the Marriage Law's implications.

"In order to create a more harmonious society," Minister Shacklebolt had said, "and in light of the war that has just ended, this law has been passed by the Ministry of Magic." Emlyn remembered watching from a side alley as the leader of her world essentially told her that she was being forced to marry a mudblood. She had stood there in the shadows, shocked into stillness. "Full cooperation is expected," she heard him say through a kind of haze. There was a buzzing in her ears and it was as if she were viewing this all from above, an out of body experience that only intensified as the crowd gathered and pressed closer to the Minister's apparition. Everyone in the wizarding world was watching this.

He continued to speak, but Emlyn couldn't catch her breath fast enough. "Full cooperation is expected," Shacklebolt had said aloud. She had seen the glint in his eye though, that added, "And it will be enforced." She'd seen that look enough times that she knew the taste of it, the pain that it could bring. Escaping from London was useless. They already had her parents in Azkaban, which meant they already had her name, and if they had that, there was nothing that would deter them from capturing her. Emlyn understood the strength of the Ministry now that it was in Kingsley Shacklebolt's hands. She also understood how determined the new Minister was to eliminate purebloods so that a Voldemort situation could not be replicated. There was honestly no point in running, or hiding, or trying anything. They had her in their hands, as they had all other veritaserum-confessed Death Eaters and their children, and they could crush them all with a single glance if they wanted to. Emlyn's cloak caught on the uneven brick wall as she slid down it, sitting, her knees to her chest.

"Your father's daughter," her mother would've said to her with a cold sneer, "Always giving up so easily." But Emlyn didn't know what else to do.

She had felt out of place and very much unwelcome at the Ministry of Magic. After being sharply directed to the second floor by a short yet severe-looking woman, she eventually found the correct room and was met by familiar faces. Emlyn could still name them all, these pureblood children she had grown up with. They were the only friends she had ever known. Friends and relatives, she thought with a slight grin, What a fantastic family reunion.

The room consisted mostly of males, Emlyn had been surprised to find. She mentioned it to Genevieve, a blonde, green-eyed beauty- a second cousin once removed, if she remembered correctly.

"I heard that most of the girls actually came here last week," Genevieve informed her.

"They didn't want to get stuck with the crappy, leftover mudblood men that have a pureblood fetish," Gracian called from across the room. He was surprisingly relaxed, nonchalant even, as he raised his feet on to the coffee table. Gracian had always been an insolent, amusing, and rather infuriating relative. Genevieve only rolled her eyes. Emlyn couldn't find anything to say.

The Ministry was at least kind enough to let them choose, from a list of faces, names, and profiles, whom they would like to marry. There were too few mudbloods to choose from, though, so that it worked out to roughly six pureblood females to a halfblood male, ten males to a female. Obviously, the Ministry wasn't kind enough to let them really choose their partners; they only allowed them the chance of whom they wanted. The mudbloods would be making the final call.

Emlyn's eyes skimmed the page.

"Some very eligible bachelors you ladies have got there on your sheet," Gracian said with a laugh in his voice, sliding down into a seat next to Genevieve. He hovered over her shoulder, reading the list of names.

"And I'm sure your eligible bachelorettes are positively delightful," Genevieve said without missing a beat. "Give me." Before he could react, she snatched his list of mudblood ladies away from him. After giving it a onceover, she produced a very improper snort that made Emlyn remember why she used to hang out with Genevieve so much. "I think I'll stick to my list, thank you very much," she said, shoving the list back at Gracian.

As the two continued to bicker, Emlyn briefly noted that, in a different time, Genevieve and Gracian could have been married. They would've made a lovely couple, arguing and in love, and their parents would have had no objections in the slightest. She sighed. Those times were over.

She continued to peruse the list as Gracian, Genevieve, and nearly everyone else in the room starting recalling old memories of uncomfortable ball gowns, insufferable dress robes, and stifling summer evenings at this person's or that person's manor. Emlyn tried to block them out; there was no use remembering such things, when the memories hurt so much to recall and took so much effort to file away again.

Eventually she reached the last page of the packet, which listed only two people. Her eyes fell on the picture as the name fell silently from her lips: Remus Lupin.

It shook her to the core. They had put a werewolf on the list. Sure, he was still a wizard with a wand, but he was a werewolf. This label trumped everything, anything else that he could be called. That the Ministry had considered putting him on the list was appalling. That they had actually done it was insulting, a sure and pointed jab at them all.

"Look at that scar. He's rather handsome, in a tired yet rugged, let's-go-mountain-climbing kind of way," Genevieve said, looking over Emlyn's shoulder at Remus' profile. More like a 'let's-go-howl-at-the-full-moon' kind of way, Emlyn thought darkly. She wanted to shove those words right back into Genevieve's mouth and tell her what she knew about the man, the lycanthrope, but the blonde had turned to talk to Gracian again. Emlyn couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from Remus' photo, wanting to burn acidic holes through it.

Then, suddenly, she remembered something her father once told her when she was preparing to be inducted into the Death Eater circle. She couldn't have been older than fifteen or sixteen at the time.

"When something catches you unexpectedly, or when something doesn't go the way you want it to, turn it into an opportunity," he had said, watching her with a steady gaze as she practiced fluid wand movement, "That is the best way to defeat your enemy. If you weren't expecting it, surely your opponent wasn't either, and getting them off their guard is winning more than half the battle."

The wheels in Emlyn's brain started turning, trying to figure out what method would yield the best outcome for her. She could choose someone other than Remus, of course. However, that wouldn't guarantee anything. The profiles the Ministry workers provided said nothing of their attitude toward purebloods, and Emlyn was sure that there was little to nothing written down of their true personalities. With Remus Lupin, on the other hand, she knew one thing about him that was absolutely certain: he was a werewolf. Maybe, just maybe, this could work to her advantage. Perhaps his being a werewolf would lead him to be less bigoted. Perhaps the fact that purebloods had worked with other werewolves would soften him to her. Perhaps, as an outcast himself, he wouldn't mind having a different type of outcast as a companion.

She had circled his name and turned in the form.