Chapter 2 – The Pureblood Marriages Act

Three weeks earlier…

It was Kingsley who had called for the meeting. Sirius knew things weren't good if the Order of the Phoenix was reassembling in his family's kitchen, but he hadn't expected the news to be that bad.

Just as they had done only a few years before, the respective parties stood or sat around the long wooden table, waiting for the last members to arrive. The original group, of course, had waxed and waned in strength and personalities since the days when the four Marauders and Lily Evans had been the youngest adherents to the cause. Now Harry and his lot were the junior members. A flock of Weasleys filled the rest of the seats along with Minerva McGonagall, Hagrid, Andromeda, Remus, and Tonks.

Sirius held court at the end of the table in his usual spot. Under different circumstances, he later thought, it could have been the start of a half-way decent piss-up, but then Kingsley and Arthur had arrived and thrown a spanner into all sorts.

The rest of Sirius' life, for starters.

"What is it, Arthur?" asked an anxious Molly Weasley the moment her husband entered the room. "Why are we all here? What's happened?"

"It has to be the Ministry, right?" asked Harry on the heels of Molly's questions.

"It's always the Ministry these days," added Ron.

Arthur didn't answer them. Instead, he moved past Kingsley and made his way down the far side of the table to the cupboards behind Remus and Tonks. "I need a drink," he muttered.

Sirius looked somewhat askance at the head of the Weasley family making free with his best firewhisky. "Lord, Arthur, how badly have they buggered things up this time?"

"You're not going to like it," Arthur replied sharply. He held up an empty glass to Sirius and raised an eyebrow.

Sirius gave him a fast nod before adding, "I tend not to like anything involving those Ministry gits. How is this any different?"

In answer, Arthur poured Sirius two stiff fingers of the potent amber liquid and set the glass down in front of him without another word. Then he downed his own.

"Sodding hell," swore Sirius. If Arthur was drinking Ogden's like that, things were much worse than he'd suspected. His hand tightened on his own glass, but he didn't lift it off the table yet.

"Anyone else?" Arthur asked the rest of the room, using the same prickly tone as before.

"Dad?" ventured Ron. "Are you all right?"

"No, son," he replied, "I don't believe I am."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, still not drinking, and looked down the length of the table. "Well, Kings? Enlighten the rest of us while Arthur tends bar. Is the world ending?"

Kingsley shrugged off his cloak and folded it over the back of a chair before responding, "Only for some."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Any more melodrama and we can open a bloody theatre. Will one of you please explain what's going on?"

Kingsley took a deep breath, braced his hands on the table-top, and began to speak. The deep bass of his voice echoed in the cavernous room. "A new bill will pass through the Wizengamot later this evening. It has unanimous support, which means Fudge will sign it into law before midnight. None of us knew of its existence until only a few hours ago. We've had no time to prepare, which is why we needed to call this meeting. If we'd known, we might have been able to do something – to have tried, at least."

Remus cleared his throat. "What bill, Kingsley?"

"The Ministry has become gravely concerned about the continuing presence of former Death Eaters in the general wizarding population."

"That's rich," snorted Bill Weasley. "They didn't mind them so much after the first war, did they? Or when they were collaborating with Voldemort's forces in this last one."

"Too righ'!" agreed Hagrid wholeheartedly from his position near the sink.

Kingsley let both comments settle before continuing. "Some families are specific points of concern – the Malfoys and Rookwoods and others who seem to have come through the latest war relatively unscathed."

Now it was Andromeda's turn to interrupt. "Unscathed!" she scoffed. "Cissy and Lucius did not come through the war unscathed! They might still be alive, but they've lost practically everything else: their home, their fortunes, their position, their self-respect. No one wants anything to do with them, or with any of the others who claim to have been 'led astray'."

"Be that as it may," said Kingsley, "the Ministry has decided that a more lasting stand needs to be made against the darker families amongst us."

"Stand, Kings?" quipped Sirius. He leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Don't you mean a mild spanking? It'll be the same as it's always been – anyone under suspicion will just swear they were Imperius-ed into doing nasty things and there's an end to it."

"Not this time."

Sirius gave the room a wry grin. "What, have Fudge and the others finally taken their fingers out long enough to do something serious to Lucius?"

Kingsley's mouth became a flat line. "This law won't affect Lucius."

The room immediately descended into a chorus of irate Weasley protests:

"Why go after any Death Eaters at all if not him?"

"Who came up with this anyway?"

"Why do we—"

"How can anyone—"

"Then what's the—"

"Let me finish!" bellowed Kingsley. His voice rolled over the others like a tidal wave, silencing them immediately. "The Ministry's goal is to safeguard our society by eradicating the potential for any future generations of Death Eaters. It has been successfully argued to the Wizengamot that this can only be done if claims to magical purity held by certain ancient families are destroyed."

Harry leaned forward. "How can they do that?"

"The new law targets the last remaining Pureblood families in Britain."

Hermione's head snapped up from where she'd been looking at her hands since the meeting had started. With wide eyes, she stared first at Kingsley, and then down the table to Sirius – who was already staring at her.

"They call it the Pureblood Marriages Act. Any remaining male heirs to Pureblood houses associated with the Dark Arts must marry a Muggle-born witch within the next four weeks. Heirs who are already married or who are engaged to be wed are exempt. All marriages will be conducted according to Muggle rites, to emphasise the importance of Muggle-born traditions in our world. The deadline is the summer solstice. Any refusal to obey the law will result in immediate imprisonment: no trial, no appeal."

"Doesn't that sound fucking familiar," growled Sirius, crossing his arms and stretching his legs out so that one ankle rested on the other. The way Hermione had looked at him just then had been unsettling, but he tried to dismiss it, letting his instinct for bravado rise to the fore instead. "I can think of a few names who should definitely be on the Ministry's naughty list."

"This is preposterous!" declared Minerva. "Male heirs, indeed! It's insulting and archaic as well as being completely ludicrous."

Tonks nodded strongly in agreement. "Exactly! People won't go along with this!"

Remus, however, shook his head. "No," he said slowly, "I think they will. There is a great appetite in our world for the abject humiliation of others. I know that better than most. I think this will be one of the Ministry's most popular laws in a very long time."

"It already is," sighed Arthur from his place behind them. "It has unanimous support across the Wizengamot. When was the last time that happened, eh?"

As Arthur drank his second firewhisky, Sirius noted that the man seemed to be unnaturally tense, in a way he'd never seen before.

A tendril of something cold coiled at the base of his spine.

This time, when Sirius' eyes happened to meet Hermione's, they both quickly looked away.

"After this Act has come to fruition," said Kingsley, "there will be no more Purebloods left in Wizarding Britain. There will be half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and a dozen or so prisoners in Azkaban waiting to die. That is the Ministry's goal: acquiescence or incarceration. It is presumed that most of the families will choose Azkaban rather than taint their bloodlines, or go through the embarrassment of a highly-publicised Muggle wedding – not to mention the actual marriage itself. If the so-called purity of those families has been eradicated, the Ministry believes the Dark Arts will falter, and eventually fail completely."

"But—" said Harry, his voice nearly breaking. "But Voldemort wasn't a Pureblood! He was a half-blood. So was Snape. So are most of us. Remember, Hagrid? You and Sirius both told me that ages ago!"

"Aye, we did," agreed the bearded gamekeeper. "'T'was all codswallop then, and it's still all codswallop now!"

"You see," went on Harry, "the Ministry's whole premise is flawed. This law won't do anything to stop another dark wizard from rising!"

"Of course, it won't, Harry," said Arthur with a sad shake of his head. "Reality means nothing to these people. Don't you know that already?"

Kingsley added, "The Ministry doesn't care about the truth. It doesn't care about justice. All it wants is the appearance of justice."

"Vengeance, more like!" countered Tonks.

Her fellow Auror merely shrugged. "Optics are the only things that matter here. This law is the punishment for known Death Eaters and their families that everyone has been waiting for."

"Not everyone!" snapped Andromeda. "I never asked for this!"

Molly added, "And not all Purebloods are inherently evil, either! The Prewetts were never prejudiced!"

"No one said they were, dear."

"Don't use that tone with me, Arthur!" snapped Molly. "I'm thinking of our boys! Bill's already married, thank Merlin," she said, nodding at her eldest son and Fleur, "but what about Charlie? What about Percy? Or the twins? How can we protect them?"

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the table. "Cheers, Mum," said Ron.

Molly winced and then looked down her side of the table to where her youngest son sat. "Oh, dear! I'm sorry, Ron! But, darling, you're only just twenty. Surely the Ministry isn't going to force children to—"

"The Houses of former Death Eaters or those with known ties to the Dark Arts and anti-Muggle-born prejudices will be the only ones affected," confirmed Kingsley, cutting Molly off before she could become more unsettled. "To be sure of this, the Act specifically names ten families to whom it will apply immediately."

Sirius raised his chin. "Who?"

"The Dolohovs, Mulcibers, Malfoys—"

"I bet Draco's on his knees thanking Salazar that he got engaged to Pansy Parkinson last Christmas," muttered Ron to Harry.

"—Macnairs, Rookwoods, Carrows, Goyles, Averys, and Notts."

Ginny quirked her head. "But what if the heir to one of those houses is gay? What if he's never liked witches?"

Tonks gave her a look across the table. "The goal's the next generation, yeah? A wizard who already likes other wizards wouldn't be a problem in their eyes, would he? Besides, can you think of a Pureblood house where the heir is openly gay?"

Ginny huffed indignantly, swinging her hair. "They are so narrow-minded just to presume—"

"Well, of course!" Tonks interrupted. "It's the Ministry, right? Narrow-thinking is what they do."

A polite cough got everyone's attention. "That was only nine families, Kingsley," said Remus softly.

"Really?" asked Harry.

The werewolf nodded. "You wouldn't have called for this meeting if it was just those families. Who did you leave out?"

Kingsley exhaled slowly. "Those nine… and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Silence filled the room.

Sirius didn't move. His body stayed frozen in his earlier devil-may-care pose, but the smirk fell away from his face. His jaw hardened and his slate-grey eyes turned stormy.

"Say it again." His low whisper easily carried down the length of the table.

Kingsley's gaze never wavered. "The House of Black. You, Sirius. You're the tenth."

"I take it, then," said Sirius, squaring himself slowly in line with the table, "they've somehow forgotten that I'm not a Death Eater?"

"They know. But, apart from yourself, Andromeda, and Alphard, practically every other Black has been a dark witch or wizard. To the Ministry and the greater public, the Blacks are Purebloods with some of the oldest and strongest bonds to the Dark Arts. It was proposed that your specific inclusion as one of the ten would make it virtually impossible for the others to go unpunished."

Remus frowned. "Who suggested that?"

Kingsley waited a moment before answering: "Dolores Umbridge."

"FUCKING HELLFIRE!" Sirius' roar filled the kitchen as he bolted upright and then smashed his hands down on the table. "That woman is a sadist!"

Tonks looked up at her cousin, mystified. "Umbridge is the thing that gets you screaming? Not the part about you having to get married against your will?"

Sirius glared at his cousin. "Don't."

"No, really," she insisted. "I'm stunned! Why her?"

"Ask them," he spat, pointing at Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "She tortured them for months and completely got away with it. Then she came after you and Remus – no, don't try to tell me otherwise, it was her – and now she's trying to cover herself by throwing me under a bus – and she's enjoying every second of it. That bitch thrives on the pain she can cause others, and she does it all with a smile and an arsing bow in her hair. Of course, she's the one behind this!" He paused for a moment before adding, "And heaven help the Muggle-born witches who have to go through hell now, too. She'll be loving that, as well."

"The Muggle-borns have to be willing to save an heir from a trip to Azkaban," said Kingsley. "The Ministry expects a definite lack of volunteers."

Ron's nose curled. "How do they think they can get away with this?"

"Because," said Arthur, his firewhisky glass now empty, "it has all the appearances of being for the 'greater good.' Umbridge told the rest of the Wizengamot that Sirius would support the law if it meant destroying the other dark houses. She sold it very well. They believed her."

Sirius covered his face with his hands and then briskly rubbed them back and forth, as if he could force himself to wake up.

"They can't do this, Kingsley," protested Remus.

The other wizard said nothing for a moment before looking at the clock on the kitchen wall above Hagrid's head. "They can and they will, in just under three hours. Sirius is only one man. They're weighing one wizard's private happiness against the semblance of justice being served… and an end to the threat of another war, no matter" – he held up a hand to mollify Harry – "no matter how flawed that kind of thinking may be. They are counting on popular support for the punishment of Death Eater families, and they expect Sirius to adhere to the new law in order to remain at liberty."

"Of course, they do!" barked Sirius. "I've only lost half my life to those Ministry bastards! Why not give them the next few decades, too?"

Remus reached a hand down the table towards his best friend. "Padfoot. There must be some way to—"

Sirius ignored him. "What if I tell them all to go to hell, Kingsley? What then?"

"Azkaban." Kingsley's response was short and savage. "There is no alternative – not if you want to stay in Britain. This is real, Sirius. It cannot be stopped. You know what they're like. Once the Ministry has decided on a policy, nothing short of a revolution can alter their plans. Look at what it took to clear your name!"

"Yes," snapped Sirius. "I had to die. I'm well aware."

"Of course, the Ministry would be just as pleased if you had to go back to Azkaban," said Arthur. "You're hardly their biggest fan. Silencing you permanently would make some people there very happy."

"Starting with Fudge and Umbridge, I should think," chimed in Tonks.

"That fucking system is broken, Kingsley!" snarled Sirius, his exasperation clearly shining through.

"That's why we're here," Kingsley replied. "We need a solution. Tonight. We're already running out of time."

Sirius swallowed slowly. "It's one prison or the other, then, is that it? I can either go back to hell on earth, or I can get married to some complete stranger and lose my freedom that way, yes?"

"Kingsley's right, Sirius. Speed is paramount." Arthur's voice held a new urgency. "You have to be married by the summer solstice. That's barely four weeks away. They've set that date intentionally because they know how difficult it will be for any of the families to react in time. From what I've been told, the organisation of Muggle wedding ceremonies can be… complicated. And the Ministry wants to make a grand thing of any that do happen."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "How wonderful. Imprisonment and publicity: my two favourite things."

"Sirius?" asked Harry. "I hate to ask this, but who will it be?"

"What's that?" snapped Sirius, still distracted.

"Who are you going to marry?"

Sirius' face paled. "Merlin. I don't know."

Harry's eyebrows drew together. "That's a problem."

"Precisely." Arthur ran a hand around the back of his thinning hair and shook his head. "There aren't many Muggle-born witches of your, ah – vintage – who are available. None, frankly. That's why we needed to meet tonight. Kingsley and I are at a loss for names."

Kingsley cleared his throat and began to say, "There is a possi—"

"We can't come up with anyone," Arthur insisted, shooting the Auror a nasty look.

Sirius blinked. "You're having me on. No one?"

"There are only a few Muggle-born witches each year," explained Arthur, "and we lost so many in both wars. Too many. Kingsley and I hashed this out on our way from the Ministry tonight. It's why I needed a drink. You're not an easy fix." Setting down his empty glass with a light 'clink,' Arthur counted off their problems on his fingertips. "We need a witch who is single, Muggle-born, willing, and – well, to be blunt – strong enough to see this through as part of the Order until the law is reversed. It would mean giving up her freedom, too. Do you know any Muggle-born witches who fit that description?"

Sirius hung his head. "Lily," he said plainly. "Hecate's teeth. Just Lily. She was the only one in our year. She'd've done it, too, even though it would have killed her not to be with James."

"You didn't know any other Muggle-born witches at Hogwarts?" asked Tonks in an edgy voice.

He raised his hands, at a loss. "I—Circe's pants, I didn't go around checking every girl's blood status before trying to shag her."

"Even knowing what your mother would have done if you'd been able to tell her?" scoffed Tonks. "I find that surprising."

"Look, I avoided anyone from Slytherin. Beyond that, I just don't know." He looked further up the table at his fellow Marauder. "Moony? You remember things better than I do. Can you think of—"

Remus sighed and shook his head. "Lily stood out in our year for a reason. As for the others…" His voice trailed away as he shrugged and held up a hand.

"What about Mary Cattermole?" suggested Ron out of the blue.

Harry looked at him. "What, the witch you were married to for an hour at the Ministry?"

"Exactly!"

"Ron. She was married. You were her husband."

"Oh. Right."

"Bigamy is, of course, out of the question," said Arthur quickly.

Ron twisted his mouth as he ran through other names in his head. "Moaning Myrtle?"

Sirius scowled furiously. "She's dead, annoying, and almost twice my age. Just how sodding old do you think I am, Ron?"

"Gee, yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

"Gods!" yelled Sirius, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. "Who the hell am I supposed to marry?"

"I'll do it."

There was a loud scraping sound of a chair being pushed back, and then Hermione stood up from her place half-way down the table. It was the first time she had spoken since the meeting began.

"I'll do it," she repeated, nodding to Kingsley and then glancing in the other direction to where Sirius stood. The look he gave her could have turned Medusa to stone.

Immediately, Harry and Molly jumped to their feet and began yelling, while Tonks leaned hard across the table.

"What—?!"

"NO! Absolutely not! Sit down this instant!"

"She can't! Remus! Tell her she can't!"

Arthur, pained, stared up at the ceiling, just as Sirius had done only moments before. "This is what I was afraid of," he muttered sadly to no one in particular.

Hermione, however, was defiant. "No!" she said, looking back to the others. "No! I won't sit down! Stop it, all of you!"

"Hermione," urged Harry. "You can't be serious!"

"Yes," she said calmly, "I am. Please, Harry," she stressed. "Please."

Hearing the note of decision in her voice, Harry slowly returned to his seat, but his eyes remained hard.

"Tonks," said Hermione to the witch still reaching for her across the table. "It's fine. I know what I'm doing."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

Remus' hand softly landed on Tonks' shoulder and pulled her back to his side. "Love," he whispered, "let her be."

Hermione's face was fraught as she looked up and down the table, making eye contact with everyone but Sirius. "Do any of you know anyone else who can do this? Do you?" The Weasley twins looked away from her powerful gaze almost immediately, as did Hagrid. Minerva bit the inside of her lips and shook her head. Remus' face was pale, as though he'd been hit with something deep in his sternum. Bill and Fleur, too, looked flustered, but kept silent.

"Hermione? How can you—?" Ron's voice trailed away as she raised a single eyebrow at him. "Right," he breathed, and looked down at his hands.

"It has to be me," she said, before looking to Kingsley again. "Doesn't it?"

"You were the only one we could think of," he admitted solemnly.

"I thought so. Well, then," she said before looking over at Arthur. "I think I'll have that drink now, Mr Weasley, please."

"Me, too," said Harry in a hollow voice.

Molly, however, remained on her feet. Her face had turned increasingly red from the moment Hermione had risen and through all the others' objections. Now, she snapped. "Hermione. Sit. Down!"

"No. I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley, but I won't. I think you should try to calm yourself."

"I will not!" shrilled the smaller witch, barely able to speak through her abject fury. They had all seen Molly get angry before, but this was the first time she had truly lost it on Hermione. "You're just a child! You don't know what you're saying! You're too young! You don't have any idea what this would mean!"

"Yes, I do – and I'm of age."

"This cannot happen!"

"It will."

"I won't allow it!"

"You can't stop me!"

"Yes, I can. Arthur, tell her that she has to—"

"Enough!"

Sirius' voice cracked through the room like a whip. In one motion, he tipped the contents of his whisky glass down his throat, his eyes blazing. Slamming the glass down, he then ignored everyone except Hermione and walked the few paces necessary to reach her. "Come with me," he said in a low voice, taking her hand and pulling her away before she could say another word.

He led Hermione out into the narrow hallway that immediately buttressed the kitchen, closing the door behind them and then silencio-ing the space with his wand for good measure. It was dark and gloomy: a part of the house that always failed to capture the light, no matter how many candles he had hovering above it.

Still holding her hand, Sirius moved further along the dark passageway and then took her elbow, holding her steady in front of him as they faced one another.

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.

"I should think that was obvious."

"Hermione. Why?"

She gave Sirius a look that shot straight through him. It was a gaze that was far too old and mature for someone as young as he knew her to be – and, yet, there it was.

"You need me," she said simply.

Sirius paused for a moment and then shook his head. "I can't let you do this."

"Do you know any other Muggle-borns?"

Closing his eyes in defeat, he let her go and leaned back against the wall just behind him. "No," he breathed.

"Do you want to go back? To Azkaban?"

"I can't." His voice nearly broke as he said it. "I can't go back there. Not again," he said, reaching for her once more. This time, he held her gently by her forearms, not even realising what he was doing. "But I can't run, either. I can't abandon Harry. I scarpered when you were all in school and it was useless. Worse than useless, because, by the time I made it back here, everything had already happened, and I was no help."

Hermione nodded sagely. "I know."

"I know you know. I also know that you don't want to do this."

"Want and need are separate things," she said firmly.

Sirius gripped her a bit harder, growling, "I don't want your charity."

"Shame."

"Hermione! You can't stand me!"

She gave him an inscrutable look, and then made the tiniest of shrugs. "Maybe you'll grow on me."

"This will be a horrible mistake," he vowed.

Her chin dipped ever so slightly as she looked up at him. "Am I not at least somewhat more appealing than Azkaban?" she asked softly.

He grimaced. "Gods! Of course, you are!"

"Well, then. It's settled." Stepping back from where he had held her arms, Hermione put out her hand. "Will you marry me?"

At the end of his tether, Sirius looked at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but at this slip of a girl who, as usual, was driving him completely batty with her harebrained notions.

"Sirius? Will you?"

Closing his eyes, his words came out as a pained groan. "I'm desperate. I have no choice."

"That's right. You don't. Marry me," she insisted. When he still didn't answer, she closed the gap between them and placed her outstretched hand, very gently, where his waistcoat cut against his shirt. "Marry me."

Sirius looked down at his chest. A hopeless sigh escaped his lips as he felt her small hand against him. He couldn't remember the last time they had touched before that night. It wasn't skin on skin, but the intimacy of her gesture was still there, all the same.

For a moment, he thought she might pull away as he kept gazing at her hand, but Hermione didn't move. She simply stayed there, pressing her fingers just below his heart, waiting for his answer.

Giving in at last, he covered her hand with his, the faint, runic tattoos on his knuckles briefly catching the dim light above them. But Hermione's eyes didn't look dim at all – they were clear and bright and mesmerizing as he stared down into them.

"Fucking hell," he swore softly. "Yes. I will."