Poor Man's Eugenics

Marriage Law OneShot! Complete with sarcastic, yet omniscient narrator. A quick and dirty interim project, while I await ideas for Lilies. As usual, we’re going wildly AU (and probably OOC), so Snape and Dumbledore live. Hooray. Warm fuzzies are present in copious quantities; no smut. I needed to be happy, and I assume I’m not alone in that. So, here’s my bedtime story.

Poor Man’s Eugenics

The war is over, Lord Voldemort is dead, Kingsley Shacklebolt is in charge, and yet there are still enough residual morons in the ruling class to ruin things for all of Magical Britain. Well, it is government after all; perhaps it just can’t be avoided. (It should be mentioned, if only parenthetically, that in speaking of the unavoidable, the Golden Trio is completing seventh year graduation requirements… joy).

The ultimate example of governmental idiocy is the mass owl that will be received this morning by all the of-age, unmarried wizarding population. The delivery is to take place at what is known as, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, breakfast time. Some aspects of the Dark Lord’s brief but brutal reign were retained by the new government; the most pertinent of those being the legislators’ collective sense of secrecy. There would be no warning; it’s easier that way, supposedly.

When the owl did arrive, simultaneously to the entire affected population, signed by some self-important underling (who had only to write and mail every last notice, who doubtlessly had no role in the actual legislation), the reaction was instant. Every eye seventeen years and older read the same thing:

Dear Single Witch or Wizard:

As you are aware, losses sustained in the war against Lord Voldemort and his followers were substantial. It has come to our attention that the Magical population of this country must be supplemented. Therefore it is necessary in the eyes of your legislative council to require that every witch and wizard of age must be married and with child in the reasonable time frame of sixteen months. Additionally, the council must mandate that no two Muggle-Borns shall be married, nor shall any two such individuals procreate together due to the risk of conceiving non-Magical children. Witches or Wizards will initiate a written contract with persons of interest, who may in turn accept or deny the request for marriage. In a final note, we remind the younger demographic about the acceptability of intergenerational relationships in the Magical world.

The Ministry of Magic wishes you good luck and great happiness!

A collective noise which rang of disbelief, outrage, desperation, and a thousand other emotions overwhelmed the Great Hall like a sonar tidal wave. If such a reaction may be described as a wave, then Albus Dumbledore could only be described as one cool surfer dude. Looking like the cat that got the mouse, he turned to his colleague, Professor Severus Snape, and said in an undertone, “You realize, Severus, some might see this as an opportunity. A second chance, one might say.”

“Opportunity, indeed, Headmaster. It is just this kind of thing that causes me to question the wisdom of saving myself.”

In fact, ever since that fateful day when he nearly died, he could not stop thinking about Lily, about seeing her again. The truth was it was making him a wreck. He hardly ate or slept and was constantly lost in thought. He was oddly emotional. His magic was effected profoundly. Already, the first week of classes, he had to call in a substitute. He had been expecting to feel very liberated after the Dark Lord’s downfall; not this.

At this point, Minerva spoke up in her shrillest tone asking the Headmaster to restore order to the Great Hall.

“I don’t think it wise to ask that just yet, Minerva. This is quite a shock, and it would not do to take away an outlet. I have a feeling to do so might yield in a greater calamity.”

“The first week of school,” she lamented weakly.

The Headmaster rose and got the attention of all his charges.

“Breakfast is nearly done, and ordinarily, classes would begin in a few brief minutes. Given the great shock that has been delivered to us this morning, I think it wise to cancel classes for the day. Not one mind would actually be devoted to learning or teaching. Take the day and create a strategy, a way of coping. Dismissed.”

Rather than the usual scraping and clambering, one could have heard a pin drop as the students sat initially in stunned silence, then quietly rose and filed out in small groups.

“Severus, I’d like to see you in my office,” the Headmaster said, turning to go. “Now,” he added when he noticed his Potions Master was not moving.

....::-*v*v*-::....

As soon as the door to the Headmaster’s office swung shut, there was released a great diatribe.

“Oh, no, Headmaster. I refuse to have anything to do with this. Please send me back to a mad despot, so I can die with dignity. Is Shacklebolt completely mental? How could something like this pass?”

“As I said before, Severus, some might see this as an opportunity.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Severus said, but he was unable to suppress a slight twitch. Damn emotion.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

And damn him.

The Headmaster pressed further, “It reminds me of the way you used to look at another.”

‘And that’s where you’re wrong, Old Man,’ the Potions Master thought, while outwardly trying to look innocent and confused. He most certainly did not look at Hermione Granger the way he used to look at Lily Evans. He was a boy then, he didn’t know what it was all about—what life was all about, or what a relationship was. He would openly admit to having some pretty screwed up ideas of life and the world in his younger years; most of that he attributed to his parents and his colorful childhood. What do you expect? As a Slytherin, there was no way he was going to accept total responsibility. Objectively, he shouldn’t have to.

“Hermione Granger, Severus. Contact her, she won’t refuse you.” What Dumbledore left unsaid was, ‘I’ve seen the way she looks at you.’

“Surely not! She’s a child!”

In his surprise, he totally forgot to deny his—what? Infatuation? Feelings?—for the girl. This was the opening the Headmaster was looking for.

“No. She is of age and must marry, regardless.”

“It’s wrong.”

“What are two decades in a wizard’s life? Nothing. Many things are wrong, Severus. But wrong doesn’t mean that no good can come of it all. You know that.”

“I don’t want to talk about this!”

“Consider it.”

“We’re done here,” the Potions Master said almost inaudibly as he turned on his heel and left the office.

....::-*v*v*-::....

In her bed with the curtains drawn, Hermione Granger could not believe how much effort it had taken to shake off her two best friends. They meant well, but there was no way she could ever marry either of them, and they didn’t want to marry her. Harry had Ginny, and Ron had… well, never mind. Now it was time to get down to business. She had made a list of all the of-age males she had attended Hogwarts with who met the criteria of being half-blood or greater, automatically crossing off those that didn’t appeal to her. She was feeling successful in using her intellect to attempt to “solve” this problem until she realized that her compiled list was done, every name stricken, and for damn good reasons.

A thought came to mind. A deliciously terrifying thought. How would she ever face him again if he refused her? But how many opportunities did a girl legitimately have to propose marriage to a man she had loved from a distance for quite some time? She needed to have courage; these were strange circumstances and she could always blame extreme distress if something humiliating happened. After years of living for Harry and living to defeat Voldemort, it was finally time to live for Hermione Granger. Finally.

Having soundly made up her mind (and memorizing at least a dozen viable excuses should things go poorly), Hermione wrote out the contract and sent it by owl.

....::-*v*v*-::....

Albus Dumbledore looked up sharply as the door to his office banged open.

“Headmaster, this positively reeks of your interference.”

Severus Snape walked in to the study with a wild air of extreme disturbance such as he had not exhibited since he confronted Black and Lupin four years ago; he was clutching a piece of parchment.

Remaining aggravatingly serene, he looked up from his magazine, “Severus, lemon drop?”

Mentally, the Headmaster made a note to find something to occupy his Potions Master’s time; when he was not able to teach (or take out his troubles on the students) he was very difficult to deal with indeed.

“Absolutely not. I told you I would not be a part of this scheme, this, this, this… poor man’s eugenics movement!”

“It seems like fate has other ideas, Severus,” Albus said, blue eyes a-twinkle.

“Fate, indeed,” Severus said, scowling darkly, when what he dearly wanted to say was, ‘Fate my arse, meddling old goat.’ But he remembered his subordinate position, and that the mention of goats might not win him any points.

“So, what are you going to do? Surely you won’t refuse Miss Granger’s request. I do not claim to know her mental state, but what I do know is that she has only sent out one contract.”

Severus clenched and unclenched his free fist, staring at the ground.

“This one, I assume,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Sharp as ever, my boy. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

The mask of anger slipped off the Potions Master’s face, giving way to honest confusion.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

“Meet with her in neutral territory. Do not try to intimidate her. Listen to her, be honest with her. Are you prepared to meet with her now?”

That was a lot to process, and he would not commit to most of it, but at least it was an idea.

“That will work.”

The Headmaster rose and went to his fireplace.

“Minerva,” he said, through the connection, “please bring Hermione Granger to my office immediately.”

....::-*v*v*-::....

Hermione’s gut clenched as her Head of House led her to the Headmaster’s study. This was not going to be good. Were there rules about relationships between students and teachers? She couldn’t remember any; surely she would if they existed. Even if there were, surely this constituted extenuating circumstances. Mentally, she rehearsed the excuses she had invented before sending the contract.

Her terror dispersed somewhat when the Potions Master promptly kicked the nosey old folks out, in the name of privacy. It returned when he drew two chairs up to face each other and fairly growled, “What is this,” he waved the parchment for emphasis, “all about?”

“Well, Professor,” ‘What to say, what to say, what to say?!’ “I assume you received an article of mail this morning,” she began, lamely.

“Why me?” he barked, a bit too loudly. She jumped.

“Why me, you silly girl?” All the venom was gone this time; the Professor addressed his feet in a considerably softer tone.

Although she had a whole host of reasons ready, like her Know-It-All self, a little voice told her that now might not be the time. Instead she addressed him softly, daring to rest her hand on his, “Why not you?”

He looked positively agonized; he was breathing heavily. Was he really going to reveal himself to a student this way? She had made herself vulnerable in the extreme. She had put her entire being on the line for his approval. She had not sought after any other. What did this mean? It was strangely… touching.

The voice inside Hermione gave her a little nudge; now was the right time to talk. Before she spoke, she opened his hand, took out the parchment and laid it on the desk. She moved forward in her chair and took both of his hands in hers, unable to meet his eyes.

“I have… I have always thought highly of you. I would never—could never have said anything before this law. It changed everything. I just want you to know that if you do this for me, I won’t be in your way… I like my privacy, I won’t intrude. I tried to find other possibilities, I really did, but I can’t bear the thought of being trapped with a person with whom I have nothing in common.”

“Miss Granger, I have often noted your… cerebral nature, but surely you realize that there is more to a marriage than… intellectual commonalities.”

Her heart skipped a beat; he acknowledged they had “intellectual commonalities.” The problem remained, however, that she was unsure how to answer him. It had, after all, been a day of being bold. Why break that pattern now? She had positively nothing to lose, and they both knew it.

Leaning forward, cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him gently. His response was encouraging. He did not touch her with his hands, but he did deepen the kiss, and did not break away until they were both breathless. He rested his forehead against hers.

“I need to know,” he said raggedly, “what your feelings are for me.”

She tilted her head so that their noses were touching.

“I think I could very easily love you.” It was the most honest answer she could think of, and she didn’t dare lie.

Severus’ reaction was surprising, even to him. He slipped out of his chair onto his knees, with his head in her lap. Vaguely he remembered something someone said about second chances and bad things that could lead to good.

Hermione leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Gods, what must she think of him?

“Will you marry me,” she whispered, “please?”

She could feel him trembling and became concerned when he didn’t answer.

“Professor?”

A muffled sound came from the general area of her knees. Sliding her chair back, Hermione knelt in the floor, arms around the man who she dearly hoped would agree to be her husband. His lips settled near her ear, and he whispered, “Severus.”

“Yes, Severus?”

“I will marry you, Hermione Granger.”

....::-*v*v*-::....

On the other side of the door, Albus Dumbledore could not suppress a wide smile. His boy had finally found some happiness. Now, to run the kids out of his study, or let them consummate their new relationship on his carpet? He had to be in that study every day; out they would go.

....::-*v*v*-::....

Upon reflection, neither Severus nor Hermione was certain their feet actually hit the ground between the Headmaster’s office and Severus’ private quarters. For his part, Severus felt like every nerve was on fire; there was an ache in his chest which worsened every second they weren’t in contact. Hermione sensed his need, and needed reassurance herself. All in all, it had been quite a day.

Once inside, with the door safely shut, they fairly flew at each other. The kiss was all-consuming like wildfire, but tender at the same time.

When they did break apart, he took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

Her eyes opened fairly widely, and she seemed to freeze.

“Nothing will happen tonight,” he promised her, “I just want to be close.”

“So do I,” she whispered, following him to bed.

They curled up together and slept better than either had a right to; in fact, they slept better than most in the castle.

As dawn came over the castle, the Potions Master knew that all of his magical woes were over.

....::-*v*v*-::....
Fin
....::-*v*v*-::....