Disclaimer: My initials will never assemble to spell JKR, therefore, anything HP that follows is hers.
A/N: This is where the story is going for now. I'm thinking about putting some action in later though…
"Don't fret, Minerva," Albus sighed as he pulled his wife closer. Resting his chin atop her rich, black hair (which (to Albus's disappointment) was all ready wound in a rigid bun), Albus could smell the ginger scent that seemed to persistently flit around her. It helped him focus on the problem at hand. Could he protect his wife while still satisfying the inane mandates of the Ministry?
"Don't fret?!" Minerva shrieked as she jerked away from his efforts to soothe her. "I've just learned that not only do I have to continue to keep my marriage a secret, I have to get married a second time to someone else, all to prove I'm not married to the man I love!" She jumped off the bed, evading her husband's fruitless attempts to pacify her. "Truly, Albus, dear! You've made a bigger mess of things than they were before I asked your help! Before I was merely worried, now I'm confused and worried!"
"Tabby, you're rambling." Albus began, "Now, according to the paper, the law gives everyone three months to find a partner. That should be plenty of time to straighten things out. In the mean time, I plan to enjoy a lovely breakfast."
"Albus Dumbledore, you astound me! In three months, I may have to sleep in another man's bed; and all you're thinking about food! Are you simply failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation, or are you truly mad?"
"For now, we will settle for the latter," Albus smiled, as he silenced Minerva's retort with a good morning kiss, "And I do have a plan."
"Thank Merlin!" Minerva rejoined, as she pulled away to face the window.
"I plan to visit the Minister this very afternoon, and discuss the possibility of exempting certain people from the law, if they can prove their need for privacy. After all, I find the entire idea completely absurd! Finding someone to spend your entire life with in three months? Insanity! Why, even after you came to Hogwarts as a teacher, it took us over two years to figure out that we were perfect for each other. And even then…" his recapitulation was interrupted by a tiny, hiccupy sob, "Minerva, are you crying?" He questioned as he glided toward the window.
"I'm… sorry…dear," Minerva sniffed, haltingly, pushing a collection of tears off her cheeks.
"There's no reason to be sorry, Tabby," Her husband eased. This time, he met no resistance as he pulled her into his arms, "What's troubling you?"
"I'm just scared, Albus. While things have never been easy for us, we've still managed to make it through, keeping our marriage a secret. But now this decree will change everything. You're going to be ridiculed for being married to your Deputy. Not only that, but with Voldemort becoming so powerful, there's a good chance he'll try to kidnap me. And I'm not afraid of being kidnapped; I'm just worried about you rescuing me! What if he gets you angry and you make a mistake? What if you end up getting …k-k-killed! All because this absurd…"
"I'm sure, however confused she may be, the minister still has her reasons for instituting such a law," Again, Minerva glared at Albus, so he hastily amended, "But if it would make you feel any better, I'll skip breakfast and head straight to the Ministry."
Minerva's frown receded to be overtaken by a weary smile, "I have every confidence that you will come to a workable solution, Albus, dear. Just please, do find something soon, I couldn't bear the thought of having to put up with anyone else wooing me."
"How did I ever get so lucky, Tabby?" Albus grinned as he leaned down for his goodbye kiss.
"I was asking myself the same ques…" That was all she got out, before Albus made better use of her mouth.
Breakfast was an interesting affair. Everyone at the staff table seemed to have a new motivation for observing their surroundings. There were nervous glances exchanged between members of the opposite sex. As everyone all ready knew about the decree, it was foolish to pretend that anything else occupied their mind. But how did one start a conversation with someone you had to marry at the end of three months?
In his usual, loony fashion, Alastor Moody broke the ice for everyone by bursting into the great hall, stumping up to the staff table and declaring, "Poppy Pomfrey, I've loved you for years now, and I know you feel the same way. We've wasted years dancing around our feelings. Now this decree helped me realize how foolish that was. I'm not going to dance to any tune any more, Poppy, unless it's a wedding march. Will you marry me?" he finished pulling a small box out of one of his pockets and thrusting it unceremoniously in the astonished mediwitch's face.
"I…I…I… of course, Alastor, darling!" and she jumped up so quickly, her chair clattered to the floor, breaking the awkward silence that followed Moody's feverish declaration. The hall erupted into cheers and whistles and the students applauded the first of many ungainly love scenes that would follow this decree.
As Poppy was whisked out the hall by the Auror, Minerva couldn't help but notice (to her revulsion) that Argus Filch seemed to be casting some pensive glances in Madam Pince's direction. Poor old Professor Slughorn was just sitting down next to Professor Sinsitra. I wonder how many unlikely couples this ill conceived law will produce. Minerva winced at a few of the possibilities. I genuinely hope Albus convinces the Minister to recant soon, or things could get very uncomfortable, very quickly.