A/N: This is written for the One Hour Challenge with the pairing Irma/Pollux and the prompt 'the sanctity of marriage'. This is also for the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt 'never', the Character Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt 'galleon', the Favourite Family Boot Camp with the prompt 'blackmail' and the Favourite House Boot Camp with the prompt 'speechless'.

I was thrilled to do this pairing because I have had a very extensive head canon for them. From the Black Family Tree, it states that Pollux was 13 when Walburga was born so I had to think of a reason why that would be the case, especially in 1925. I believe I have found a suitable reason. Also, when in doubt, please remember the era when you read Pollux's thoughts. The context is very important.

The stormy grey eyes of Pollux Black were wide and magnified under his thick gold framed lenses. His gaze was directed down his long hooked nose at the girl before him. He was starting to wish he had listened to her suggestion that he sit down, but then he had assumed it was wise to refuse her offer.. After all, he had responded to her request for a conversation and he was hardly going to follow all of her demands like she had any semblance of authority over him.

Irma did not. He was the heir to one of the Black line and she certainly was not. Pollux knew her Black blood was so very limited. A Crabbe had not married into the Black Family since the start of the Eighteenth Century and it was so very obvious by looking at her and every other person who carried the Crabbe name; they might have been pure, but their noses were like squashed tomatoes, their faces were as blotchy as pygmy puff fur and they hands were as coarse as muggle filth.

Irma was exactly the same, though he supposed underneath her robes her figure was voluptuous and curvy. However, even though she was three years older than him, he could not have any respect for her; especially because he knew that fact. She had offered herself to him several months ago and they had lain together numerous times. It was more than pleasant and he would not reject an experience that he enjoyed, but no witch could ever be respectful who gave herself to men in such a way. She was obviously an uncultured and loose woman.

Yet, he was listening to her and unable to speak. This gross immoral woman had stripped him of his speech. His voice was gone unable to find any response at all to what had to be a mistake. It had to be wrong. If she was such an immoral woman, she should have known how to stop this situation. Certainly a Black would not resort to such means, but she was not like his family and she should have known how to stop such a situation developing.

But, she had not.

"You are wrong," he said softly half to convince himself. He shook his head hastily that still contained round cheeks that suggested he was too young to be told such news. "You have obviously made a mistake. I know you must be wrong."

"No, Pollux," she murmured her eyes following his every move. Unlike him, she did not show any negative emotions. In fact, he could see the beginning of a smile forming in the corners of her lips. "I have been to a healer. There is no mistake. I am preg-"

"No!"For the first time Pollux lost control raising his voice and taking no care for the fact that the classroom door was still half open in an effort to display some modesty that did not exist. "You are not pregnant. You cannot be."

"But, darling I am."

Irma slowly rose from her chair, but Pollux could not even look at her even as she slowly brushed her gloved hands over his fingers. He felt desperately ill and only his rejection of the truth could make him feel any better.

Pollux had always been the good son. He was the eldest son and heir to his line of the Blacks. Unlike Marius, he did not show inappropriate social graces and he was always polite and well mannered. His father had sometimes accused him of being too quiet, but Pollux had always believed in the advantages of sitting quietly and speaking only at the right moment. He had always believed that someone should only act when it is the exact right moment to do so and that emotions should always be controlled.

He should have kept that in mind when Irma had shown him too much attention. She might have been three years older than him and a pureblood, but he had blessed her with little attention. Her family line was pure, but not prestigious enough and she was too unattractive for his extravagant taste. However, then she had offered him not just a hand to kiss politely, but herself completely. He should have rejected it. He should have known better.

He had not. He had taken everything she had offered him and now he was in the situation.

"We will be fine," she said in a way that was trying to be soothing as she squeezed his hand. He knew she was trying to catch his eye, but he could not return the contact. He could not turn and look at her. He was afraid he would hit or curse her and, even towards a loose woman such as herself, that would have been a classless thing to do. "It just means we will be together earlier than we expected."

His eyes zapped up to her hardening as he yanked his hand away the feeling of sickness in his stomach increasing. He backed away from her disgust entering his eyes.

He knew what she meant. It was obvious. It was probably the reason she had slept with him in the first place. A woman like her could never marry a Black with usual conventional and respectful means, so she had tried a desperate appalling tactic to get what she desired.

"We shall not," he snapped back abandoning the logical thoughts that he was so very wrong. "I can assure you, Irma, that I have no intention of entering into a marriage with you. I can assure you I will never marry a woman with such loose morals such as yourself."

Spinning on his heels, the only thing that improved his mood was when he heard her sob as he slammed the door closed behind him.

It was all a lie.

For all the insults he had slung at the Crabbes, they were not an unimportant family. They might be ugly and they might not have been as powerful as the Blacks, but they were pure and they were influential enough. A Black could never get away with offending a family such as the Crabbes without facing severe repercussion.

The Blacks would be a laughing stock. There was a small possibility that Irma could disappear into a home in the country without a word, but it would not be without blackmailing Pollux and his family for thousands of galleons. All the gold that they had buried away in their vaults would have to be spent on that ugly girl. It was the only possible alternative.

Unless, he married her.

As much as he wanted to deny it, their families would decide that the sanctity of marriage was the only way to fix the moral codes that they had broken. They would be forced into matrimony where their child would be legitimate and be the next addition to the Black line.

It was unavoidable that he would have to marry Irma Crabbe.