A/N: This is the story you have ALL been waiting for... Posted in my profile long ago, you may recall the notice that I was writing a very complicated/complex story about MMAD. This is that story. :D There are frequent OCs, which I apologize devoutly for, but this story would be impossible without them...
Full Summary: "Richly decorated, Albus Dumbledore is now the richest wizard in all of Britain, having killed Grindelwald, and having inherited a great bit of his father's money. The people, for some reason, nearly worship him, though he is not the Minister of Magic. The Minister, however, has different plans for the Wizarding World's "shining gem". The minister decides to input the "Marriage Law" which states that all Purebloods have to marry Muggleborns. Albus does not approve of this idea, and declines every woman he is presented. He finally settles, however, with a witch bearing the last name of 'McGonagall', though not Minerva… He has her sister, but when his world, and Minerva's meet, who's to say love cannot blossom amidst the broken remnants of the Wizarding World?"
The following chapter consists of an interaction between the minister and the minister's spouse before Dumbledore is to receive word of a newly established "Marriage Law" uniting each Pureblood to a Muggleborn. This takes place about six months following his defeat of Grindelwald {to which he does in December of 1945, or so I decided. :D} This is now late June of 1946. Any questions, go ahead and ask. This is simply a filler chapter and quite unnecessary. :D
~Prologue~
Wind whistled throughout the silent grounds, punctured only by a wolf howling in the distance. As would a mirror, the small pond reflected the full moon, spoiled only by the slow, soft, ripples in the water caused by the gentle wind, which caressed the molecules to dance atop the surface. A low, slopping tree enhanced the peaceful backyard, but inside the fortress, was an entirely different story.
"Come closer." Her voice echoed along the great, cavernous walls of the intricate home. The walls leaned slightly inwards to catch every word as the man moved toward her, hesitation overclouding his green eyes, which were already dimmed by dark shadows and black circles clinging to the crease of each eye.
The firelight burned her topaz eyes orange and red. She withdrew her index finger from a loose fold in her robes, and traced her tongue on it before stroking the man's face, bristled with unseen facial hair. Her husband closed his eyes in slow motion as her nails dug suddenly into his face.
His eyes shot open, and his mouth opened to form a disgruntled protest, but she thrust her other index finger smoothly to his lips to quiet him.
"I do this only to please you. I do this for you to only agree-" she trailed off, and her voice settled his demeanor instantly. He nodded, ire lingering in his otherwise stony eyes, but it was dismissed. "If all goes according to plan, the Wizarding World will be ours to claim. All for the better, if I admit the obvious."
He nodded, stepped back, and collapsed into the chair beside her warily in their grand dining room. The table was ornamented with a thin tablecloth, accented only by pure-gold trim.
"He won't agree to it." The man's voice exuded as dryly as a quill scratching against old parchment. His eyes quickly curved to meet hers, but as his glowed with realization and grim satisfaction, hers burned with fury.
"He will," she declared resolutely, "or Azkaban for him along with the rest of them." Her last word was spat, and the man grinned wickedly.
"And the debt you hold? What of that?"
Brushing her fingers across her face resignedly, she spluttered, "Debt? The only debt is their negligence! This is only done for their own good." Her last words were transfigured to a whisper as her intent strengthened. "You do realize the importance of this legality, do you not? In order to convince the Wizarding World that this is the best way, the only way to follow the end of the war is to pull the invisibility cloaks over the dragons."
He nodded, and rubbed his nose as she stood and began to pace elegantly across the marble floor. "Uniting the Wizarding World will be difficult. They all hate each other. My reasoning is to only bridge the gap between them!" She ended in a horrendous cackle that would shatter the normal soul. Heaving her last sigh of hilarity, she concluded, saying, "They might find love, but the latter additions to the law will result in the otherwise unattainable goal."
The man's head snapped up from his slouched position as a notion sliced through him.
"Victoria!"
She turned from her stance at the window, her eyebrows drawn together almost as if she were discouraging glee. She opened her mouth to speak in threatening, but the man silenced her with his inquiry.
"What if…he finds love?"
The frown vanished, and Victoria cackled again in an insane manner. "All the better!" she screeched her approval at his words, continuing to giggle as she stepped closer to him.
Her eyes grew large with excitement, "It will kill him. The thought alone would kill him. What is more pathetic than that? The only man rumored to become our ruler will break at the notion as so idiosyncratic as love! Even lust will kill him, the poor boy." Her fingernails dug into the man's throat, and he smiled against the pain, leaning back to stare up at her chin, for she refused to grant him the privilege of eye contact. Her billowing crimson robes flattered her figure, and did not draw attention away from her curves despite the incessant frills that fell around her in a repetitive pattern. The desire for eye contact waned, and the man's eyes precariously began a descent all their own. Victoria noticed at once, and pulled his chin up, finally kneeling before him to completely eradicate his desire. His hands gripped her arms urgently at the lost moment.
"You must go to him. . . ."
The man groaned in opposition; the last thing he wanted to do was run a fool's errand. "Victoria, this is beyond all orders you have given me. Why must it be me?" His anger ignited the once dormant fire in his eyes as he glared at his wife.
Victoria scoffed. "If I were to attend to this matter myself, I am sure to receive his displeasure, and then who shall run the country? Him?"
The man shook his head violently. "He would not dare to harm the Minister-"
"Nor her assistant-"
"His power-"
"Means nothing-"
The man glared at his wife, and silently cursed whatever heavens above bestowed upon her the wit that she possessed. "I won't do it."
Victoria smiled manically. "Then you will never receive your gifts. . . .Do not tell me that you no longer desire them, Hector. We both know that is false."
He growled, wrenching his hands from hers, which had been clasped and stroked seductively. "The gifts are no longer vital, therefore I suggest better, ah, pickings. . . ."
Victoria pressed herself into him, forcing him to gaze at her slender neck and beyond. "Better pickings, eh?" she whispered into his ear. "I suggest you get a move on, otherwise, all chance at power will be lost to you. If I fire you, your honor, your fame is lost forever. And, we don't want that now do we?"
Hector cleared his throat, and Victoria removed herself from his lap with an evil smile. "No, we do not."
"I expect you back in no less than three hours."
He jerked his head downward in approval before rising, turning away, and disguising himself as he pelted down the stairs towards the Apparation point; his only thriving comfort being that he would receive his reward later on that night.
