Chapter 4 – The Edict

The official wording of the Pureblood Marriages Act arrived from the Ministry the next morning. Sirius and Hermione had pointedly avoided each other until after Ron, Ginny, the Lupins, and Andromeda had arrived to discuss their next steps. When the Ministry's owl appeared, they had all congregated as a group with Harry in the main library on the second floor of Grimmauld Place to hear the news.

The missive held in the owl's beak was a garish purple, gold, and black.

"Egads," said Sirius, taking a step backward. "It's an actual Edict. I thought they'd stopped using those things when we were kids."

"And when was that, exactly?" teased Tonks. "Back before the Flood?"

Sirius glowered. "I'm in no mood today… Nymphadora."

With one hand, Remus held his mate back from launching herself at her cousin, while with the other, he took the envelope from the bird's beak. "Shall we get this over with?" he asked the rest of the room.

"Please," replied Hermione.

"Whatever," muttered Ron, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Right. Everyone, stand back," Remus cautioned them as he began to undo the seal on the letter. "Ministry Edicts had a bit of a reputation years ago for making Howlers seem underwhelming."

He wasn't wrong.

With a loud peal of trumpets, the purple envelope unfolded itself and a high, pompous voice – which, later, many of them agreed sounded distressingly like Percy Weasley – filled the room.

"Hear ye, hear ye. The following Edict from the Ministry of Magic concerns the law now officially recognised as the Pureblood Marriages Act, lately approved and adopted by the Wizengamot of Great Britain and given ministerial assent by Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Order of Merlin (First Class), Minister for Magic – a copy of which may be found below in full – and is sent to the attention of one Lord Sirius Orion Black, heir and last scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Greetings—"

Sirius groaned loudly. "Is it all going to be like this?" he lamented. "I already want to obliviate myself."

"Sssshhh!" hushed Andromeda. "Listen!"

The disembodied voice, which had briefly paused, now continued from where it had been interrupted.

"Greetings ~

In the wake of the aforementioned Act's recent approval and sanction, the Ministry of Magic has endorsed the following conditions regarding any prospective union between an heir of a condemned Pureblood house and a consenting Muggle-born witch. Failure to adhere to any of these stipulations and requirements will render any ceremony between said witch and wizard, conducted in Great Britain or any other realms and territories pertaining thereto, null and void, with the additional proviso that said Pureblood wizarding heir will be taken immediately into Ministerial custody and transported forthwith to the prison and fortress of Azkaban.

For any such union to be considered lawful in Wizarding Britain according to the regulations of the Pureblood Marriages Act:

First ~ The marriage must occur in a Muggle church or house of worship, using Muggle ceremonial rites, after having attained appropriate marriage banns or licences for the same;

Second ~ The prospective bride and groom must abide by expected Muggle marriage traditions, including but not exclusive to: attire, attendants, décor, liturgy, time of day, photography, catering, post-ceremony reception, folk customs, and consummation."

On hearing that word, Hermione and Sirius immediately looked at each other. Neither said a word.

Undeterred, the Edict continued:

"Third ~ All weddings will be considered public wizarding events with full press coverage provided by a Ministry-approved newspaper of record;

Fourth ~ Wedding ceremonies, while conducted according to Muggle rites, will have full and immediate effect in wizarding society; as such, all established legalities affecting magically-sanctioned marriages will be equally applicable to the newly-married couple and to the indissolubility of their union.

On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, we are pleased to extend the greatest felicitations in anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and proffer our best wishes for your continuing health and happiness."

With a loud shimmer and a second peal of trumpets, the envelope spun around quickly and was on the verge of disappearing when it suddenly paused; the same voice then returned, this time at a much faster speed:

"Wizards of condemned houses voicing any public criticism of said law or expressing any intentions to abscond, feign, or otherwise avoid the requirements of the Pureblood Marriages Act will be immediately incarcerated without trial, appeal, or recourse to external advocacy. You have been warned. Cheerio!"

The envelope disappeared in a final puff of golden and black smoke. A single page of mauve parchment bearing a full copy of the Act and the Edict's additional stipulations fell softly to the floor. Ginny, standing nearest to it, bent down and picked it up, shaking off any remaining sparkles.

"Good lord," said a slightly shell-shocked Remus before accepting the parchment when Ginny offered it to him.

Sirius clapped his hands together. "Well, then! Any thoughts on what these idiots have proposed?"

"Kingsley was right," said Hermione, her voice a trifle faint. "They want a full Muggle wedding. Every part of it. I'll need to speak to my parents – today, if possible."

Harry immediately frowned. "Why?"

"Because my mother knows the bishop of their diocese quite well. They take Zumba classes together. We need a church, a priest, the lot… and we need it all set as soon as possible. Remus, is there anything in there about the number of guests they expect?"

"I don't think so," replied the werewolf, perusing the document carefully. "Is there a standard number for a Muggle wedding?"

"Not as such, no. To be considered legal, a Muggle ceremony just needs the presence of two witnesses."

Tonks rolled her eyes from her position on the couch. "Fudge is going to want a heck of a lot more than just two witnesses at this catastrophe."

"Gods," groaned Sirius.

"And it has to be a church wedding?" asked Harry.

Remus nodded. "That's what the Edict says."

"But that presumes that the witches' families all go to church, and not that many Muggles do any more in Britain. Not regularly, anyway, except for weddings and funerals… and maybe Christmas."

Tonks snorted and then rested her head against the couch's back cushions. "It's another stumbling block they've set up, innit? Can't just do something on the quiet and say it's done. If it's not a major event, the Ministry won't accept the marriage as valid."

"Again," huffed Sirius, "they're idiots."

"But powerful ones," said Hermione crisply. "The logistics are quite tricky. Normally, it takes at least three weeks just to have the banns read. If my mother helps, I think we can circumvent that and get a marriage licence instead, but if the Ministry is demanding all the bells and whistles, the whole day is going to be a major undertaking. Harry," she added, looking across the room, "I'm going to need your help. You're used to the Muggle way of doing things."

"I'm not used to doing this kind of thing!" he protested.

"Please. I'll talk to my parents. I think I can get them to give their consent and arrange the church, but that's it. I can't load them up with too much else."

"Consent?" Ginny's nose twitched from where she was sitting in front of Harry. "But you're of age!"

Hermione sighed. "Here, yes. Out there? Not entirely. Not to get married, at any rate. Without my parents' permission, I'd have to be twenty-one, otherwise the government and the church will both say the ceremony's not legally binding – and I won't be twenty-one until September. To plan this, I need someone to help who knows how things work in the Muggle world – someone who can, say, manage a normal telephone conversation." She cast a knowing eye at Ron, who immediately turned red.

"The thing that has me worried," said Remus, tapping the parchment with a finger, "is this condition that it be a public event. Public for the Ministry usually means big. Think the Quidditch World Cup or the Triwizard Tournament. They won't want any half-measures."

"Which means…?" asked Sirius.

"I think you'd be fools to invite less than two hundred people."

"Two hundred?" repeated Hermione. "A full Muggle wedding for at least two hundred people pulled together in less than a month? In June?" Her voice rose higher and higher as she spoke.

"More like three weeks, actually," pointed out Harry. "If it's going to be a Muggle wedding, then it's got to be on a weekend, doesn't it? That means three Saturdays from now at the latest, or we'll have gone past the Summer Solstice."

"Oh, Merlin," said a clearly dazed Hermione. "Even if my mother can swing things with the bishop, how are we supposed to manage all the rest of it so quickly on that kind of a scale?"

"Because you're not supposed to," said Remus. "Remember what Kingsley and Arthur said. The Ministry wants to make this as difficult as possible to pull off. They want Sirius to fail. The entire reasoning behind making this such a public spectacle is so that it will never actually happen."

"All because I voiced a couple of doubts about Fudge's fitness for office the past few months?" growled Sirius. "And that Umbridge is an utter cow?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "That might have had something to do with it. Also your suggestion that – how did you put it, exactly – 'she's a delusional, dangerous bigot with an unnatural fondness for cats'?"

"Was I wrong?" asked Sirius, placing one hand against his chest in mock innocence.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached for the parchment from Remus and made her way down through the stipulated requirements. "What does this last one mean? This bit about wizarding law being equally applicable?"

Andromeda put an arm around the younger witch's shoulders. "I think that's their bewildering way of saying that you'll have to follow wizarding customs about the marriage, too, once it's done."

"Are there any in particular?"

"Well, there's no such thing as divorce in our society. I think that's probably what they're driving at. A marriage here can only be annulled, not dissolved."

Ron made a face. "Annulled? What's that?"

"It means it never happened," explained Andromeda.

"But it would have done."

"Yes, but everyone pretends otherwise."

"That's mad, that is," mumbled Ron.

"Don't worry," Ginny said to her brother. "Their marriage will only be annulled if we get the law overturned. We don't want anything annulled before then, or else Sirius goes to prison after all."

"But they're doing this to stop him from going to Azkaban."

"Which is why their marriage won't be annulled."

"But I thought it never happened!"

Hermione clapped a hand over her eyes. "Oh, please, someone make him stop!"

As the conversation moved on, Remus pulled Sirius off to one side of the room. "You know what that condition really means, don't you?" he asked in a low voice.

Sirius shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem. There was no mention of children in the Edict."

"True."

"So, it won't be an issue."

The werewolf exhaled quickly. "That will, no doubt, be a relief to both of you."

"Of course."

Remus waited a beat and then growled at his best friend. "Padfoot."

"What?"

Remus glared at him, making Sirius' eyes narrow in turn.

"Stop it, Moony!"

"I just want to be sure you know what you're doing."

"She'll be fine! Sacrosanct, I swear it."

Remus snorted. "What are you going to do, then?"

Giving his friend a scathing look, Sirius whispered hotly, "I was alone in a prison cell for twelve sodding years. I can manage."

Remus nodded. "Right. And Hermione?"

"What about Hermione?"

"She'll be fine with that, too?"

Sirius puffed out a breath of air. "She knows what's involved."

"Does she?"

"She volunteered," Sirius reminded him. "She knows."

"I suppose so."

"Then there's no need to discuss it any further."

Remus gave his fellow Marauder another withering look. "Let's hope we don't have to."

"You always have such faith in my abilities," mocked Sirius.

"Your abilities are exactly what I'm worried about!"

"Give over! You're overthinking this!"

Remus ran a hand through his hair. "Possibly," he conceded.

Tonks wandered over to the two men. "Anyone fancy a brew? We're taking wagers, by the way, about how long before your face is all over the papers," she said to Sirius.

"Me?"

"Two words, cousin mine: Rita Skeeter."

Sirius groaned loudly. "Fuuuuuuuck."

Grinning, Tonks reached for Remus' arm and stroked her hand up and down his sleeve. "I say this evening's paper; Harry's betting on the morning edition. Any takers?"

"Definitely this evening," quipped Remus, his mood lightening visibly as he smiled down at Tonks.

"Traitor," scowled Sirius.

"It's here!" Remus called out, waving the copy of the newspaper over his head.

"That's five galleons you owe me, Potter," crowed Tonks, smacking Harry in the arm.

"Remind me never to bet against you again," he muttered, rubbing the spot she'd hit.

She grinned at him. "Like taking candy from a baby."

It was late, but the group from earlier in the day was still at Grimmauld Place. No one was very sure of how they could exactly help with the wedding plans, but neither had any of them wanted to be the first to leave. Hermione had gone briefly in the late morning to speak to her parents, but had then returned sooner than anyone expected.

"They'd prefer to see me tomorrow," she'd said quickly. "I'd forgotten it's their bridge day. A card game," she explained when Ron gave her a funny look. "It's very competitive."

"Why should I care?" he'd groused before slinking off.

Hermione's lips had flattened into a thin, white line on hearing that before she moved away. Behind her back, Sirius and Harry had shared a grim look, but neither said anything.

Now, hours later, Remus moved through the library to stand near the fireplace, the evening edition of The Daily Prophet in his hands. His eyes skimmed the headlines. "Shall I?"

"Read it slowly, Moony," growled Sirius from his spot in one of the old, leather wingback chairs facing the hearth. He had one ankle balanced on the opposite knee and was staring at the dark hearth as his hand gripped a half-full whisky glass. "I want to have time to gouge my eyes out."

The werewolf eyed him over the edge of the paper. "You know, that kind of attitude is exactly why the Ministry is getting away with this."

"What? I can't resent coercion?"

"One of Umbridge's minions would make it sound like anti-Muggle prejudice if they heard you say anything like that outside of this house."

"Fuck off!"

"That's not an argument."

"Just read, man!"

Harry walked over to where Hermione sat alone on the couch. She and Andromeda had spent much of the afternoon ripping out pages from Muggle bridal magazines and making piles to go through later; now, she looked exhausted. "Do you really want to hear any of Skeeter's drivel?" he asked, obviously concerned. "I can tell you if there's anything new to report. You know she won't have anything nice to say about you, if she's bothered to figure out the obvious about who Sirius is going to marry."

"Is it so obvious?" she asked, looking up at him.

"To some of us."

Hermione didn't know what to make of that. She would have sworn that no one knew about her secret crush. True, Harry had been living with both of them since Sirius' return, but he had always been pants at legilimency. There was no way he could have sussed out those wicked thoughts about his godfather from her head.

"I do want to hear it, Harry," she answered. "We need as much information as possible so that we don't do anything wrong in our planning. The instant that Sirius and I file for our marriage licence tomorrow, we also have to notify the Ministry. That means someone at The Daily Prophet will be told right away, and then everything we do from then on will be under a microscope."

"In that case," said Remus, opening up the newspaper fully, "let's see what they already know."

Purity Purge: Ministry Passes Pureblood Marriages Act – A Rita Skeeter Exclusive

Once considered among the most illustrious and revered wizards in this land, the ancient Pureblood families of Great Britain will soon be no more. The familial houses marked by the Ministry at a Wizengamot session late yesterday evening are now considered official threats to the future of wizarding society. Their longstanding discriminatory marital practices have been publicly denounced as dangerous, passé, and incompatible with relations between the Magical and Muggle worlds at the dawn of a new millennium.

After centuries of refusing to allow for any intermingling of their bloodlines with Muggle-borns, the remaining ancient Pureblood houses in this country will face the full force of the law to answer for generations' worth of prejudice. The Ministry of Magic's new Pureblood Marriages Act ensures that Muggle-born witches will be the next – and, likely, final – matriarchs of these once respected and now reviled families.

"This Act may be seen as unfairly punitive by some," says recently-reinstated Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, "but the individual houses named in it represent dangerous radicals who despise Muggle-borns and who have never faced proper punishment for their allegiance to various dark wizards down through the ages. Only by affecting intergenerational change can we avert another war like the one under which we have all recently suffered. The vast majority of Wizarding Britain recognises this act for what it is: progress."

Some of the families singled out by the Pureblood Marriages Act have already voiced their displeasure with its contents. "I, personally, bear no ill will whatsoever towards Muggle-borns," insists Draco Malfoy, heir to a house scorned for its long-standing Death Eater involvement. "Everyone knows that the Malfoys have accepted half-bloods into our family for well over a century. This new act is clearly vindictive and ill-conceived. Its only saving grace is that it honors existing contracts and marriages. I take great comfort in knowing that my fiancée, Miss Pansy Parkinson, has saved me from being forced into an unwanted, loveless union."

While the young Malfoy heir may have managed temporarily to sidestep a more lasting penalty against his family's abhorrent beliefs, the heirs of the other nine families named in the Pureblood Marriages Act must make a swift decision: marriage or lifetime imprisonment.

It is the Ministry's firm contention that Muggle-borns approached by the targeted heirs must consent freely to any marriage offer, a factor which will, no doubt, soon cause a dramatic rise in the number of incarcerated Purebloods in the very near future.

Augustus Rookwood has already public announced his intention to return to Azkaban, from which he has twice infamously escaped, rather than to make a Muggle-born witch his wife. Unlike his previous stays in the notorious wizarding prison, this sentence is likely to be of a more final duration.

Given the list of targeted Pureblood houses, many minds have already turned to the marriage prospects of Lord Sirius Black – the sole surviving heir to one of the most storied and anti-Muggle-born families of these isles. Since his mysterious return last year, Lord Black has been regarded as Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor and is well-known for his rejection of Pureblood traditions, in contrast to his family's dark history. Given his enduring appeal as the thinking witch's crumpet, we shall, of course, keep our readers abreast of any developments as he decides upon the identity of his future bride."

"Oh, I bet they will," sneered Sirius.

"You've always been very popular," deadpanned Remus.

"You're a great help, you are."

"'The thinking witch's crumpet'?" asked a rather incredulous Harry. "Did they actually print that?"

Ron guffawed loudly and smirked at Sirius. "Hardly sex, drugs, and rock and roll for you anymore, is it? That makes it sound more like you need some worn slippers and a comfy chair."

Sirius held up a warning finger. "That's one, Weasley."

The younger man paled quickly. "How many do I get?"

"Fewer than you think."

Loudly ruffling the newspaper pages, Remus asked, "May I finish?"

"Yes!" said Hermione. "Please. I want to hear the rest of it."

Clearing his throat, Remus continued reading aloud:

"The Ministry is absolute in its conviction that all expected Muggle customs and rites must be observed by any couples marrying under this new legislation. This reporter has great delight in revealing that the Ministry has chosen The Daily Prophet as its newspaper of record for the first of these weddings, which we expect to see announced in the coming days."

"Well," sighed Remus, folding the paper back up again, "there you have it. Rita will be slavering after both of you in a matter of hours."

Ron sniggered and smirked again at Sirius. "Can you imagine Skeeter's face when she hears that you're marrying Hermione?"

"Why is that so funny?" snapped Hermione.

"I dunno," said Ron, still half-chuckling. "It just is."

"Are you laughing because Rita will be upset," asked Hermione, pushing further, "or because the mere thought of someone wanting to marry me is so risible?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Geez, Hermione! Calm down. You know that's not—"

"Isn't it? Because you've always acted like a complete ass any other time a man has shown any interest in me."

"But Sirius isn't interested in you!" Ron protested. "He doesn't want to do this! He's just marrying you because he has to!"

"Ron," said Harry quickly, his eyes on Sirius' face. "Stop."

"I'm just saying what everybody already knows! She's mad if she thinks otherwise."

Harry hit him hard in the arm. "Shut up!"

"Wise words, Harry," said Sirius, his voice dangerously low. In one smooth motion, he put down his now-empty glass and rose from his seat in the wingback to stand by one of the large picture windows on the other side of the room. His steely gaze remained fixed on Ron as he went before he turned to look out over the back garden.

But a confused Ron couldn't be stopped. "I'm just stating the obvious, aren't I? They have to get married. Skeeter will scream about anything that means Sirius isn't single anymore. The fact that he's marrying Hermione of all people just makes it better. Or worse. One of them! Doesn't it?"

Harry hid his face behind one hand.

"Ron," hissed Ginny. "Quit now before you're hexed to death, all right? Mom would just get cross, and she's already been on a right tear the past few days."

Turning to the bride-to-be, Ron threw out his hands. "Hermione! I'm right, aren't I? I know you two have to fake this big ceremony, but the whole thing is just really wrong, isn't it? I mean, Sirius and… you? Who would every believe that? Talk about a step down!" He gave her a gormless grin and laughed again.

It took only a few seconds for him to realise that no one else was doing the same.

Gulping, he looked around. "Was it something I said?"

"Yes, you git!" barked Sirius, whirling back to face him. "Shut it!"

An uneasy silence descended on the room as Ron, wide-eyed, clammed up. Ginny glared at her brother and Harry shifted awkwardly in his seat, while Remus and Tonks held a wordless conversation between themselves with prolonged looks. Andromeda made a soft tsking sound and inspected the carpet.

Hermione, however, simply stared at Sirius. He was almost wild in that moment, his body tightly wound, a snarl on his handsome face.

When his eyes moved away from Ron to settle on her, she was already feeling as if fireworks had just gone off inside her chest and, simultaneously, that she wanted to sink down through the floor and disappear. Not because of how cruel Ron's words had been, but because of the way that Sirius was looking at her now.

Like she was his.

Before she could stop herself, a small smile began at the corner of her mouth. This wizard was going to be her husband in three short weeks.

Her husband.

Thank you, she mouthed silently.

A spark flared to life behind his eyes. Still holding her gaze, Sirius' expression completely changed. His face relaxed, drawing her in – and then he winked at her.

A hot, fizzy thrill ripped through her body, stealing her breath away.

Enjoying the sudden rush of sensations flying just beneath her skin, Hermione glanced down and then quickly back up again, wanting to remember the expression on Sirius' face when he looked at her like that.

Excited, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and then slowly let it go. Half a second later, Sirius flushed and broke away from the window in a sudden fit of coughing.

Oh, she thought.

Oh.

That was interesting.