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CHAPTER 4
Albus Dumbledore inhaled deeply and relaxed slightly on the exhale. "The law simply states that as of September first of this year all Muggleborn witches between the ages of 18 and 40 must marry a Pureblood wizard between the ages of 30 and 80. The couple must produce a child or a pregnancy within the first year of marriage. A second child must be produced within the next two years. Marriages must be formalized with the ancient Wizarding rites -"
"Which will render the witch chattel, the personal property of her husband with no rights of her own," Minerva added sourly.
Nodding, Albus continued, "The next phase of the law will begin January 1, 1996, when the age requirements will be lowered to include all Muggleborn witches between the ages of 17 and 40. This will mean that not only must we assist Misses Stimpson and Clearwater in this marriage mart, but also we must be on the lookout for proper husbands for Miss Hannah Abbott as well as Miss Hermione Granger before they will need one next school year."
"There," shouted Flitwick, "there's the real target. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knows that if he can get Miss Granger in his clutches, then he can control Harry!" He swept his arms around like windmills. "The rest is just icing on the cake for his Death Eaters!"
Pomona patted Filius on the back soothingly. "All right, Albus," she said softly, "we'll pull the girls aside, give them practical advice, and do our best to screen suitors."
"Albus," Minerva McGonagall said as she shifted in her seat, "I'm afraid we have another problem - Septima Vector." When the headmaster frowned, she continued. "Septima Vector is in her late twenties, and she is Muggle-born."
Silence rang throughout the room. The old wizard rubbed a weary hand across his face while Sprout and Flitwick exchanged glances. "Severus, would you be willing to marry her?" Albus asked quietly.
"No! Absolutely not!" The violence with which the Potions Master burst out made them all jump.
Minerva McGonagall narrowed her eyes and appraised her colleague. "I agree with Severus," she added briskly.
Filius suggested with a deep sigh. "We simply must keep Septima on staff. She's a staunch member of the Order, the best in her field, and wickedly accurate in a duel. We can't afford to lose her."
"Perhaps, Remus Lupin?" Minerva suggested. "Or Sirius Black? Since he was cleared of that murder charge when Pettigrew's body was found, he is quite the eligible bachelor now."
"Definitely Black," Pomona stated flatly. "The two of them should get on well together, I'd wager."
With a grunt of disgust, Severus muttered acerbically, "That's true enough."
"Besides," Pomona added undeterred, "I believe that before long Mr. Lupin will be spoken for though he isn't aware of it yet." She smiled slyly.
Albus cleared his throat. "Well, clearly we have a good start on the matter. I know I can count on each of you to help with these matters." He stood from his chair. "If there is nothing more, I'll call this meeting to a close. We'll meet again as a full faculty next week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with Minister Fudge about the vacancy for a Defense teacher." Quickly, he stood and left the room.
"Severus," Minerva called. She caught him fairly by the arm. "I'm supposed to take Hermione to Muggle London today."
"How wonderful for you!" He pulled lose from her grasp in a pointed manner. "I have things to do, Minerva. Get to the point."
The older woman nodded and clasped her hands. "The young woman has a meeting with the Muggle authorities today to settle her parents' estate." She looked down at her wrinkled hands, holding them up to the light. "There's the dental practice and the family home to sell. Their belongings to go through."
He sighed loudly through his long nose. "You are no Slytherin. Your machinations are obvious, Minerva," he said with irritation. "I can see right through you."
Minerva's green eyes brightened and a bit of blood rose in her cheeks. "I don't," she sputtered, "I don't have the faintest idea what you're on about! I was simply telling you about that poor child, and how she is dealing with the loss of -"
"I never said I wouldn't do it," he replied in a haughty manner.
"Oh, would you, Severus?" she asked far too eagerly. "I'm just not up to it today. I haven't tried to navigate the Muggle world since the funeral. And frankly, that trip took the starch out of me. Would you go with her? Help her?"
"On one condition," he clarified. "I'll do it if you agree to foot the bill for our lunch and any other travel expense we may incur."
She pinched her lips together. "And I suppose you plan on dining in high style on my dime?"
"Oh, don't be so Scottish," he told her flippantly. A merry gleam, rivaling the Headmaster's, set his dark, brooding eyes to dancing. "You're all so alike with your penny-pinching ways."
"Severus Tobias Snape! How dare you!" she blustered angrily. "All right, then, have it your way. Hire a fancy automobile! Take the both of you to a fancy luncheon." She stood before him with her arms akimbo on her hips. "Have champagne for dinner and go on to dancing afterwards for all I care!" She was in high rare form. "You want me to foot the bill. Aye, that I will." She ended her diatribe with a stomping of her foot.
He smiled smugly. "Oh, I don't think champagne will be necessary. I'm sure the Aubergine has a most excellent wine collection."
"The Aubergine!" Minerva protested loudly.
His smile only increased. "Ah, but you've already given your word." He gracefully spread his arms to encompass Filius and Pomona. "And before witnesses, too."
Minerva backed up as if she'd been trapped and perched on the edge of the staff room table. She heaved a sigh as she looked from Flitwick to his wife. "All right, Severus," she said wearily. "You've won. Just go now before you're late. Hermione knows the addresses." As the Potions Master, with a spring in his step, headed towards the door, she shouted, "And be nice to the girl!"
"Well, I've never seen you beaten so soundly," Flitwick stated bluntly. "You're no match for a Slytherin, but you're usually far better at striking a deal than that."
Minerva didn't answer the diminutive man except with a grand smile.
Pomona matched her smile and crowed aloud with laughter. "Oh, Filius, Minerva didn't lose at all. She out-Slytherined the Sytherin! Congratulations!"
A frown on his forehead, the Head of Ravenclaw was utterly bewildered. He didn't like the feeling one bit. "I don't understand," he told them.
"That, dear," his wife told him, "is because you're a man."
October 1, 1995
"It was a lovely wedding, wasn't it?" Umbridge simpered in the staff room. "Mr. Nott made a most handsome groom, and that girl -" she turned and pulled at Minerva's sleeve "- what was her name? Simpson? Wasn't she lovely in the ivory gown?"
"Her name is Stempson," McGonagall snapped, "Patricia Stempson."
"Yes," Dolores replied with a giggle, "I was so glad that I could help that poor man find true love and happiness again." She sniffed as the Transfiguration professor turned her back on their conversation to pour herself a large whiskey. Not put out, she merely turned to the Divination teacher and continued. "Did you know Mr. Nott lost his wife not long after his son was born? The poor old fellow was crazy with grief for years."
"The girl is in grave danger," Sybill intoned solemnly as she stared off into space.
"She'll be dead within the year," Severus muttered into his glass.
"At least we saved Miss Clearwater," Pomona whispered insistently.
"You call arranging a marriage between her and Damocles Belby 'saving' her?" Charity Burbage complained.
"Well, he's not exactly a perfect match for Penelope, but at least he won't harm her," Sprout murmured. She lowered her voice and nodded towards the couple in the corner. "Looks like I was right. It seems there's a match being made between Sirius Black and Septima Vector."
"That's wonderful," cried Burbage.
Sprout smiled happily. "It is, and what's better is that after the first of the year he'll be coming here to teach the History of Magic."
Severus swallowed a large gulp of fire whiskey the wrong way, and McGonagall beat him soundly about the back. "Come along, Severus," she said loudly as she pulled him out of the staff room and down the hall.
Coughing and hacking, the Potions Master could only stumble along. Once he caught his breath, he found himself sitting in Minerva's private office. "Did you know that mongrel Black was going to be teaching here?" he demanded.
Minerva pursed her lips, gauging his anger. "Yes," she stated blandly. "Here, Severus, have another drink." Deftly, she poured them both another fire whiskey and sat behind her desk. "You know we had to get rid of Binns." She shook her head. "It was high time."
He glared at her. "Oh, I am in complete agreement that Binns had to go. He should have been replaced years ago when he died." He took a long and hopefully mellowing drink of his whiskey. "Although I would never admit to it in public, I must agree that Black would be good with History of Magic," he conceded grudgingly. "Replacing Binns with Black is a good move both academically and politically, and his impending marriage to Vector gives a perfect excuse for bringing him here to Hogwarts."
Minerva set her glass down on her desk with a decisive thump. "Glad to hear you say that, Severus, because I want to speak with you about another good political move."
Snape quickly set his glass down next to hers and folded his arms across his chest. Deep suspicion blackened his face. "What do you want?" he growled.
"What if I told you I knew a way for you to raise yourself in Tom's estimation? A way that would help save the life of a member of the Order? A way in which you could get a free brewing assistant to boot?"
He narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?
"Did I mention it's a sure way to drive both Albus and Potter round the twist?"
Severus Snape grinned enormously, a sight that would intimidate a lesser soul. "I'm listening."
"Marry Hermione Granger," Minerva said softly.
"What the fuck!" Snape bolted from his chair and loomed over her.
Minerva, calm as always, didn't even flinch. "Severus! Vulgarity is no substitute for wit!"
"The child is barely 16! Do you take me for a pedophile?" he roared.
She sniffed. "Not in the least. I know you practically hate the girl, which is why I chose you." With satisfaction, she noted the look of puzzlement on his face. "Sit down, Severus, and have another drink."
Not wanting her to see his utter confusion, he eased back into the chair, snagging up the decanter and refilling his glass to the top. "I'll give you two minutes to explain yourself, and for the record, I do not hate the girl."
Waving away his last statement, Minerva looked down at her desk. She had him right where she wanted him. The boy could never pass up a challenging puzzle. Setting up her best poker face, she looked him dead in the eye and told him bluntly, "Under this damnable new law, Hermione will need a Pureblood husband over the age of 30 by the time she turns 17 this coming September, and I firmly believe that you are her best choice."
"Although I am of the proper age, you are forgetting that I am not a Pureblood; therefore, I am ineligible to marry her, never mind the fact that she is still only 16."
"Under the law you would be ineligible, that's true," McGonagall agreed. "And, it's also true that the girl is not yet 17." She picked up her glass and took a tiny sip.
Severus swirled the whiskey around his glass, watching as the soft, brown liquid eddied and pooled across the ice. After a long moment of silence, he tossed back the remainder of the drink and, again, refilled his tumbler. "I confess that I am missing something, Minerva," he told her.
She smiled briefly, her green eyes twinkling to rival the headmaster's. "You'll marry her now, before the second section of the law goes into effect. There are no qualifications on the girl's bridegroom if she marries before the requirement."
He nodded his understanding. "How very Slytherin of you, Minerva." She dipped her head in recognition of his compliment. "Then why not marry the girl off to Weasley, that ginger menace she seems so fond of?"
"Severus, I mean no disrespect to the boy, but he is hardly the equal of Miss Granger," she replied with fervor, "besides he would no doubt wish to consummate the marriage."
"And you believe that I would not insist on my husbandly rights."
Ruthless green eyes met hard black ones and held for a long, long moment. "I believe you are a gentleman, Severus."
He heaved a sigh, knowing she was right. "Minerva, I have far too many responsibilities in this war already. I do not have the time nor temperament to deal with a blushing child-bride. Surely, there is someone else? Lupin? A Weasley cousin?"
She nodded admitting the truth. "Yes, there are others, but you know the rules of Hogwarts preclude any married students."
"Yes, that was one of the two reasons my mother left school before graduation," he stated coldly.
Minerva could see the faint blush on his cheeks. His mother's untimely pregnancy, subsequent quick wedding, and miserable marriage were the scandal of her first year as Head of House. "I remember your mother, Severus," she told him gently. His parents' marriage had not been a happy one, and both of them took every opportunity to blame the poor boy.
"I neither want nor need your pity, Minerva," he rumbled into his glass.
Wisely, she didn't reply to this. "If Hermione marries someone from outside Hogwarts, she'll be required to leave. We won't be able to protect her. If, however, she marries you, she'll be able to stay and continue her education."
"It wouldn't work. Albus would fire me in an instant, and we'd both have to leave."
"Albus wouldn't know a thing about it," she insisted. "No one would - at least not until next September when the girl turns 17. At any rate, the two of you will have been married for nearly a year by then, and both the Ministry and Albus will simply have to make the best of the situation. And who knows? Perhaps the damnable law will be repealed by then."
The Potions Master settled his empty glass firmly on the desk and folded his hands together, steepling his fingers. "So, what you're proposing to me on behalf of your ward is a marriage in name only. One that will keep the girl safe and allow her to finish her education? I promise to provide for her and protect her while she promises to help me with brewing, marking papers, and whatever I need to do in my dual roles. Is that it?"
The older woman nodded. She set her glass down as well. "Aye, that's my idea."
"It won't work," he told her. "The paperwork will never make it through the Ministry."
Minerva answered quickly. "Ah, but we will have a Muggle style wedding. You and the girl both have Muggle birth certificates," she pointed out. "A quick trip to a local highland Registrar with proper paperwork and payment is all it'll take."
"Minerva," he sighed, knowing that he was rapidly losing this fight, "the girl is still only 16. To have a Muggle ceremony, she'll have to be 18 or have parental consent."
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, the older witch played her trump card. "Not in Scotland," she informed him. "Anyone aged between 16 and 18 does not need parental consent to get married. That is how we will get around this bloody law."
"You certainly seem to have thought of everything," he muttered sourly. "But, Minerva, eventually the Ministry will learn of this pseudo-marriage, and it will either be annulled or enforced according to the law."
She held up her hand to emphasize this last point. "If it comes to a point where the two of you are forced to abide by the letter of the law, I can still think of no one more suitable for the girl than you." The old woman sighed. "And, Severus, ask yourself this: do you not deserve some tiny measure of happiness with a wife and family?"
