Consequentially Yours by Nyruserra

Prologue

Consequentially Yours:
A Gentleman’s Duty

Prologue

This couldn’t be happening – Fiercely blinking back the tears that caused the words on the parchment in front of her to blur, Hermione stared dully at the pronouncement of doom before her. Her future decided - just like that.

It was now late Monday afternoon and the offending document had been sitting heavily in the bottom of her book bag all day, mocking her. She hadn’t dared to open it until she had a chance to do it alone, and that had meant waiting until all her classes were over, then sneaking away from Harry and Ron on the pretext of going to the library for a non-existent Arithmancy essay. Instead, she had climbed up the stairs in the North Tower, right below the trapdoor leading to Trelawney’s ‘classroom’. No one in their right mind ever came up here, thinking the Divinations teacher was a right old bat. Even the few students who seemed to believe for some unfathomable reason that she held the secret to some great mystery (:cough: Pavarti and Lavender) never seemed to come up here after dinner, confining their visits to lunchtimes and weekends. Besides, no one had Divination classes on Monday afternoons. Holding it in her hands now that she was here, all alone, she still couldn’t find the courage to break the seal. Feeling the tears finally break free of her eyelids, the thought of what people would say if they could see the ‘Great’ Hermione Granger now caused a bitter smile to twist her lips. Oh, where was all her Gryffindor courage now?

The Ministry owl had brought the missive to her during the morning meal in the Great Hall, arriving amidst all the flurry of the usual morning post. Hermione hoped fervently that the official nature of her owl was missed amongst the hundreds arriving and departing the Hall. She really wasn’t up to dealing with the horrified, morbid curiosity that would follow when it became general knowledge that Mudblood, brainy, brilliant-but-scary, Potter’s–ally-in-the–final-war Granger had a Contract.

***

THE UNDERSECRETARY to the Minister of Magic’s office was one of the few that still had a working occupant in it at this time of the evening on a Friday night. Long past when everyone else had packed up and gone home for the evening, there where still candles burning brightly in this office – and usually long before anyone else had gotten in each morning, too. One thing that had not changed about Percy Weasley since his days of working with cauldron bottoms years before, was his dedication and work ethic. (Or as the less charitable often said, “The boring obsessive prat, doesn’t know when to go home!”)

Percy was well aware of this general opinion. It often amused him to occasionally do something small and out of character to shake up this perception just a little bit – almost a form of gentle reverse teasing for his colleagues. He also knew that these types of comments were said with some measure of respect – he had worked very hard after the death of the former Minister, Cornelius Fudge, to keep the Ministry effective during the chaos of the last eighteen months. Unfortunately, it also meant that he had no life. Oh well, at least he didn’t have to worry about his superiors suddenly turning up barking anymore. The office of the Minister for Magic was still standing vacant and maybe one of these days, when the wizarding world had somehow managed to pick itself up again, they would appoint a new one. But until then, Percy filled in as best he could (he continued to stubbornly refuse his colleagues’ attempts at appointing him Minister).

A throat clearing brought Percy out of his tired musing, and reminded him that he had, in fact, been waiting for someone.

“Wood! Glad you made it in tonight. I was a little worried when you owled to say you were going to be out an extra week - How did things go in Wales, then?” Percy winced as Oliver had dropped heavily into one of the chairs close to the fire and turned weary and heavily shadowed eyes on him.

“It was a ruddy nightmare doon there – there’s all manner of beasties loose doon in the bracken and moors tha’ will take the Magical Creatures Unit the better part of six months ta clean up, an’ they’re causin’ all kinds of havoc among the Muggles. We managed ta contain the problem somewhat, but it’s still not going ta be pretty.” He shot Percy a sour look. “Nary a sight of Him or any of his followers. Five weeks out in the mountains, chasing rumors! I would’na say no ta a drop of something though – it’s miserable out there.”

Moving to a battered sideboard against the window that looked out over the street several stories below, Percy held up a bottle, got a nod from his guest, and poured them both a glass of the deep burgundy liquid. Depositing his tall, lanky frame in a chair opposite Oliver’s and handing him the other glass, Percy enquired without any trace of malice “You found nothing; or was there nothing to find?”

“Nothing but sheep, once ye get up into the mountains. I hate sheep, by the way – they never passed tha’ way, I’m sure of it. Tension is still really high amongst the magical community, though. People’s nerves are just stretched tae thin with waiting for word that it’s really over. It won’t take much of a spark to set something off.”

“I hope you’re wrong about that.”

Oliver shifted yet again in an attempt to stay awake. He was finding that the large chair was obscenely comfortable and given that he hadn’t slept in over twenty hours, he was finding it very hard to resist its siren call. The mellow flavor of the wine was only accentuating his weariness, making him feel warm for the first time in days. Shaking himself slightly, he threw out the question that had been gnawing away at the back of his mind all evening. “What’s this I’ve been hearing about the Ministry being concerned over blood purity, Perce? That has a bit of a smack of His thinking ta it, doesnae it?”

“Actually, the opposite. The intermarriages amongst the ‘pureblood’ families have created something of a crisis for their continued existence.” At Oliver’s slightly raised eyebrow, he continued, “Squib births are on the rise – up by almost sixty-eight percent in the last thirty years. We’re now facing a statistic of something like one in every three children being squib-born – and that’s just the start of it! There are more and more problems with, ah … conceiving children, both with witches and wizards proving … incapable. And then, there are all kinds of disturbing blood-sicknesses that are cropping up. The bloodlines are just too damn close!”

“Oh? There have been rumors for years, but I never realized tha’ the problem was tha’ wide spread, or even much of a concern. I mean - who cares if the Malfoys of the world can’t have kiddies, or spawn, or whatever it is they do. Sounds to me like a good start on a solution to some of our more pressing problems.”

“That particular brand of pureblood has created one hell of a mess for themselves all right, but it’s a problem for all of us, as it’s not just the righteous few who are in trouble. They’re definitely much worse off than the rest of us, though. This is affecting everyone – we need to add new blood desperately! I mean, look at You-Know-Who—”

“What about him?” Oliver looked startled at this apparent non-sequiter.

“He was Muggle-born. Well … half, anyway. He was one of the most powerful wizards of all time. And who did it take to beat him? Harry Potter is also half Muggle, on the Evans side, you know; and of course, Hermione Granger is completely Muggle-born – two thirds of his downfall, and both also amongst the most powerful mages of our time. I wouldn’t be surprised if you went poking about in the Dumbledore family tree, you wouldn’t find a healthy dose of half-blood.” Percy paused to gather his thoughts, wearily. “And another thing – those blood-sicknesses that are turning up, a couple of them in particular are highly virulent. If we don’t nip this in the bud, we’ll have a pandemic on our hands, the likes of which you couldn’t even imagine, my friend.”

“So what’s yer plan, then? You going start telling them ‘No, I’m sorry, you can’t marry yer sister, Goyle - no matter how nicely she cooks!’?”

Percy snorted, barely managing not to spray his wine in the process. “Actually, you’re not too far off the mark, Oliver.”

This got him a fully raised eyebrow for his trouble, and gave him the feeling that for the first time this evening, Oliver was giving more weight to his words than to his pressing need for sleep. He made a peculiar sort of rolling motion with his head, to indicate that he had better continue — Now.

“I’ve instituted a Marriage Law. It’s already been announced while you were gone.”

“WHAT!”

***

IT TOOK a while to calm the raging Scottish man enough for him to listen at least, and stop choking on his wine. Eventually, even he had to concede, though, that the Undersecretary did have a point. It was a very major problem – and given the abundance of prejudiced gits still at large, people were not going to behave themselves just because the Ministry asked nicely. It was the next part of Percy’s plan that Oliver was having the greatest trouble with, though.

“Really Oliver, I’m sure you see how important this is – I need you publicly on board with this. You were extremely popular on the Puddlemere team when you played with them, and your support would help smooth the path.”

“How in the hell is my support going ta smooth the way? And what right-minded wizard is going ta go along with this one? I mean, it’s almost slavery, Perce. The only ones who will participate will be the McNaultys and Blacks of this world. Can you imagine Bill, or Lee Jordan, or one of those blokes issuing one of these contract thingies ta some poor lass?”

“First of all - yes, I realize that there will be some unpleasantness with the Malfoys and Crabbs, and a few other families. I have tried to put in as many protections in place as I could, but this is the only way. As for the others … well, it will just take time. I still expect them to fall in love as they usually would, they will just have a narrower field to choose from. It’s not like I’ve placed a time limit on anyone. Not until a Contract has been filed, anyways.”

“After that, the poor thing has a month ta find herself what happiness she can, before she becomes legally bound, huh? And I still don’t see where I fit into this.”

Percy sighed at his companion’s naivety. “Well, I want you to … sort of show the way on this one - you’re really very popular, you know.” At Oliver’s blank look, Percy decided to ‘go for broke’ and spell it out for him, “I need you to file a Contract, Oliver. Soon.”

For the second time that evening, Percy was faced with the job of calming an irate highlander. After he had recovered from his fainting fit, of course.



Author's Note

As you can see, this is a take from WIKTT's now imfamous Marriage Law Challenge. I own nothing, with everything you recognize belonging to JKR and her agents, and I promise to put everything back when I'm finished with it - even Oliver!

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