A Match Made at the Ministry
Chapter 1: Chop Chop
29 June, 2001
As the Quidditch players sped past their seats Charlie Weasley began thinking about life. About how, after everything that had happened in the war, things seemed to finally be getting back to normal. Better than normal in some ways, though, as he was on holiday sitting with Ron, Fred, George and Percy in a Bulgarian Quidditch stadium watching a friendly between the Bulgarian national team and Puddlemere United. The tickets were through Fred an' George's old Gryffindor Quidditch captain Oliver Wood, who got his usual allotment of tickets even if he was doing nothing in the match except riding the bench. Apparently Wood had seen some match time when the first team keeper had been injured; instead of playing in the friendly like usual Oliver was sitting while the other keeper used the match to get back to league form. It still felt odd for Charlie to see Oliver as anything more than the little Gryffindor on his broom trying out for Keeper from back when he was playing, but time had definitely moved on.
"Over there, about two rows up from the ugly bloke with the mustache." Fred handed a pair of omnioculars across Ron to George. "Can't miss her, blue shirt."
George quickly fitted the omnioculars to his eyes and began scanning. "Damn it, do you know how many ugly blokes with mustaches are in this crowd?"
Charlie tapped Ron on the shoulder and both of them leaned back slightly so they could see each other. "They're doing what I think they're doing, right?"
Ron nodded, a scowl on his face. "Ever since I asked Hermione to marry me all they do is try to find the most fit women to show me what I'm missing, or the ugliest old ones to show me what's going to happen."
Charlie laughed softly. "That's your own damn fault, Ronnie, getting engaged. Bill, now you. What are the Weasleys coming to?"
"Uh...there might be one more." Ron swallowed and debated on whether to say something.
Charlie looked over at this brothers, did the calculations and it didn't take long to figure out. "Shit. George, move." He stood up, reached down and grabbed his brother's hair and then jerked him towards Fred's side. His little brother got the hint and after apologising to the spectators near them he looked over to Ron. "Does Mum know?"
Ron shook his head quickly. "Not yet. I shouldna said anything. He hasn't asked her yet but I know he's got the ring. Went with him to get it and that was when he asked me a buncha stuff. You would think that after going through all the crap he went though he wouldn't be like that but he was nervous as hell. They're going out tonight. I think he's gonna ask her."
"Is she going to say yes?"
Ron looked at Charlie for a moment as if trying to determine if he was taking the mickey. "Are you fuckin' thick or what? You know how they are. No wonder you're single, you're awful at this stuff. And I should know, because I was really awful for a while. Now are we gonna watch the match or talk about stuff like this?"
30 June, 2001
It was dark when Daphne Greengrass unlocked the door to her flat. It had been raining, but nothing horrible, just the normal amount which seemed the precise quantity to make her hair start to frizz. But even if her hair approached something like Granger at a rainy Quidditch match before the poor Gryffindor girl found out about hair care products it wouldn't matter to Daphne; she had discovered something at work that would change everything. Initially she had planned on keeping it all in until she arrived home and then absolutely losing it when she told her flatmate, but for some odd reason she was calm.
"Shock." She hung up her cloak on the hook by the door, walked into the little sitting room and sat down in a chair partially covered with crisp packets and some Muggle magazines. "That's it, I'm in shock."
Tracey Davis sat on the floor across from Daphne, leaning back on the sofa, and watched her flatmate with a semi-scowl. She'd lived with Daphne during Hogwarts and pretty much afterwards except for a horrid month at home with her parents. She'd seen Daphne like this a few times before and it had never gone well. Leaning up on her elbows she tilted her head to the side slightly. "What'd you find out in the Wizangamot this time? Muggleborns are good eating with enough HP sauce?"
Daphne waved her off absentmindedly, "No, I don't think so. It's much worse than that."
"Really?" Tracey leaned forward. "This I have to hear."
"Oh." Daphne shook her head a little bit. "What did you ask?"
"Never mind. What'd the Wizangamot do this time? I wish Shacklebolt was still Minister."
"Oh, trust me, Trace, after you hear this you'll think that even more. Even my parents will want him back."
"Merlin." Tracey put her hands on the front of the sofa and eased herself up into a proper sitting position. "Your parents are...well...um..."
"Never mind about them. I was there in session, an open session or else I'd never be able to say a word about this. It was one of those completely boring sessions, taxes, tariffs, all that financial stuff. And then a Department of Mysteries man...or possibly woman, couldn't tell...they started in on some report that's given every twenty years. Apparently there's a chance of magic dying out, massive amounts of squibs being born, and then one thing will lead to another and the Floos will stop working and wards will fail and either the Muggles will find out and everything changes or the Goblins take over and Merlin-forbid that happen, because...Tracey? Tracey? Are you listening?"
"Hmmm?" Tracey looked up from her magazine. "Sorry, stopped caring after you started droning on about taxes."
Daphne looked around her chair frantically and, finding nothing, settled on crumpling up several crips packets and threw them at Tracey. "Dammit, listen! I didn't even get to the important bit but here it is...they voted on and passed a Marriage Law!"
"Nuh-uh. That's mental. Good try."
"I'm not lying! You'll see it in the papers tomorrow." Daphne sank back into the chair. Her tone was distant and detatched. "Purebloods have to marry half-bloods or muggleborns. If you aren't currently engaged the Department of Mysteries will match you with someone. Six months to marry, first child a year from wedding date."
Without saying a word Tracey got up from the sofa, returning moments later with a very large, cheap jug of wine and two tea mugs. "Haven't done the cleaning." She poured the wine and handed Daphne her mug. As her best friend took the mug and kept quiet Tracey started thinking. It wasn't like Daphne to be this way. The story was crap, at best. Unworthy of a good Slytherin joke. She pursed her lips and gave her a disdainful glare. "This is all because your sister's been seeing Creevey. I knew with him working at that shop with the Weasleys this would happen. Are there cameras somewhere?" She took out her wand and began waving it about the flat.
Daphne took a big drink of wine from the mug. "I knew you could use your wand; too bad you don't know any cleaning spells. And it doesn't matter that Astoria's dating Dennis Creevey...well, it might. But I'm not lying. Tracey. Tracey, stop waving your wand and listen!"
That caught Tracey by surprise, because the tone of her voice was similar to back then, back when they were Slytherin outcasts during the war. "Daphne..." Her wand went slack at her side. "This marriage law thing is real, isn't it?"
"It is. I wish I wasn't lying. As least Stori will be happy. The government will officially approve of her dating Dennis, even if Mum and Dad don't."
Tracey sat down on the sofa and took a big drink from her mug. "So we'll get a letter from the Ministry assigning us a..."
"Yes." Daphne nodded. "We'll be told who we'll marry. I wish I could forget I ever heard any of that."
"You can, temporarily, and without a spell." Tracey held up the jug of wine. "Thank you, alcohol."
The reaction to the Daily Prophet for the first of July was astounding. The day's editorial was right there on the front page alongside the picture of Minister Hilda Osben holding up a graph with the arrow going down to the bottom of the chart and then off of the chart. The editorial, without a byline for protection's sake, didn't mince words; it was everyone's patriotic duty to repopulate the magical community in a responsible manner after all the losses. But the quote from the Minister didn't start things off on the right foot.
"Listen, we didn't suffer through the Voldemort Wars so you could dither about and not commit and do things the right way. We're in crisis here, people! The Department of Mysteries' report was very clear, we're in danger. Marry and procreate, and none of this 'pureblood only' thing. If you would have done things right the first time we wouldn't be in this state and I'm looking at you blood purity zealots. Get hopping. You've got six months after the notices go out. Oh, and as of today the contraceptive spell has the trace on it and we've restricted the sale of certain potion spell ingredients as well. We'll know if you're trying to fool us. Chop chop. And for those who have gone ahead and done things ahead of time, and properly, like Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Ginevra Weasley, not to mention Mr. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Grunger, well done! Right. No more questions, I'm a very busy witch."
After apologising to Miss Hermione Granger regarding the spelling of her surname and wishing her and her betrothed the best, the editor referenced the entirety of the marriage law, printed in full on the back page of the paper. Alongside the marriage law was the report from the Department of Mysteries. It didn't paint a pretty picture. Low birth rate, combined with a startling death rate amongst half-blood and muggleborn witches and wizards had sent the squib chances very high, and the population expectations through the floor.
Consensus was that something needed to be done, but everybody agreed that the marriage law was a step too far. Cries went up for the Wizangamot to reconvene to reconsider the law but unfortunately every member of the legislative body seemed to be off on holiday. For six months.
The scene inside Daphne and Tracey's flat was played out all over Britain; sitting nervously with a cup of tea, scanning the sky and wishing that the owl wouldn't come. But the owls came, all over Britain just as certain as they came to the window of their flat. Tracey and Daphne looked at each other, tapped their hands three times on the table and then made a gesture; Daphne's hand was flat while Tracey mimicked scissors.
"Damn it." Daphne moved the chair back and went to the window, let in the owl and took the two letters. Usually the owls waited for treats but this owl must have been under orders because the second the letters were detached it took off as fast as possible. "I don't want to look."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Nobody does. At least you're not going to be stuck with some pureblood arsehole like me. I thought I was done with that after Hogwarts, but then it keeps on going. Now this. Joy. Here, give it." She held out her hand and took the envelope, hurriedly opening it and pulling out the parchment. "Ok, since you're dying I'll tell you the first page is just the law and rules and shit. The second page is the thing, so..." She turned over the page and stood there for a moment. "Well...huh. I forgot they're a pureblood family."
"Tracey! Who?" Daphne's eyebrows shot up into her fringe.
"Shaking her head Tracey pointed to Daphne's letter. "You look and we'll tell at the same time. This is so fucking stupid, anyway. I mean, we're getting a letter telling us who we'll marry and have children with. Like I want kids, they get jam all over everything..."
Daphne lifted the envelope with trembling hands. After a moment's hesitation she ripped open the flap of the envelope and tossed aside the first page. There, on the page was a name. It took her a few seconds to register and to connect the name with a person. A person she knew, sort of.
"Ok, on three..." Tracey tapped her on the shoulder. "One, two..."
"Goddamnit, Daphne." Tracey gave her a disgusted face. "Three, three...and Oliver Wood? Really? He's fit. Puddlemere might have a chance with him in goal."
Daphne glared at her best friend. "I know you work with Quidditch at the Ministry, but this is..." She stopped suddenly. "Who'd you get?"
"Well, it's a Weasley. Don't laugh." Tracey pursed her lips. "But not one I know."
"So it isn't one of the twins or Percy. Good job, there. But who is..."
"Charles Osbert Weasley. I have to marry a man whose middle name is Osbert. I don't know anything about him but how awful must he be with a name like Osbert? And I know he didn't give himself that name but he has the genetics of someone who would name a child Osbert. I'm marrying a Weasley. Daphne, you're crap at Obliviation, right?"
"Oh, thanks for bringing that back up."
"So you wanted to be an Obliviator and were pants at it, perfect. Obliviate me."
"But I could permanently...oh." Daphne sat down on the chair nearest. "Nice try."
Tracey threw the parchment in the air and walked into the kitchen, returning with an unopened jug of cheap wine. "I don't care what time it is, I have to marry a Weasley. I guess it could be worse, it could be Malfoy. Wonder what poor non-pureblood has to put up with that ponce?" She looked over at Daphne, still standing by the kitchen table. "Daph?"
"I don't like Quidditch. I don't know the first thing about Oliver Wood except he was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain."
Tracey poured the wine into two pint glasses and handed one to Daphne. "Well, he's got a pretty good Scottish accent."
"He's Scottish? Oh my God. Mummy and Daddy will have kneazles." Daphne pushed aside her blonde hair and drank a good deal of the wine. "So you've met him then?"
"Yeah, he's come into the office. Working at Games an' Sport you see all the Quidditch players at one time or another. Most of 'em are overpriviledged twats. Nice to look at, though." Tracey took a big drink of wine. "So it's half-eight in the morning, we're looking lovely, I think we've got another jug of that wine in the kitchen and we've both got to marry Gryffindors. I say we get Slytherin-drunk and say the the hell with the rest of the day."
"Fuck it." Daphne drained her glass and pushed it towards Tracey. "Why not?"
The owl was insistently tapping on the window with it's beak, enough so that when Oliver Wood went to open up and let it in he was worried that the owl was slightly deranged. After taking the bundle of letters he went to retrieve an owl treat but was surprised that the owl was gone before he could give it something. Dropping the treat in the bowl he closed the window and made his way into the kitchen to start the kettle.
It had been slightly mental, the last few days. The friendly match had ended well, they'd been invited by the Bulgarian team out for a drink, and combine that with the fact that the Weasleys were there, not to mention Viktor Krum, and it was all a blur. They'd started out drinking at a wizarding pub in Bulgaria that was more disco-dance-club-thingy than pub, then somehow they'd conned one of the Bulgarian National Team officials for a portkey to Romania, as Charlie Weasley had lost a bet and had to give everyone a tour of the Dragon Reserve. A few of the celebrants dropped off at that point, most notably Ron who said he had promised Hermione things wouldn't get too out of hand. Thankfully Charlie didn't take them to see the dragons while they were all legless, as they didn't want to actually become legless or worse, and then things devolved from there. Some of the other lads decided to visit a house of somewhat disreputable repute rumoured to be in Greece so Oliver, the Weasleys and a couple of his teammates used their connections and got a portkey back to Scotland, specifically the Wood family farm. Oliver's older brother had laughed at them all and stuck them up in the crofter's cottagethat Oliver used in the North part of the farm, had a quick pint or two while he listened to their exploits and then went back to his wife and kids, promising not to tell Mum and Dad what their 'wee little bairn' had done this time.
Sniffing and rubbing a hand through his hair, trying to come back to reality, Oliver flipped through the envelopes. One for him, one for Fred, George...Percy? When did Percy get there? And Lee Jordan? "Hey lads, wake up! Mail...from the Ministry." He shuffled into the small sitting room where several people were still sleeping. "Charlie, letter for you."
Charlie didn't pull the blanket down from his face, instead he put a hand out from under the cover and took the letter and went back to sleep.
"Tom, John, Rafael...letters for you." He tossed the letters on his sleeping teammates and walked over to where the twins had fallen asleep. Fred was on top of the table and George was underneath it. "Ministry letters, here." He sat the letter on top of Fred's face and stuck George's letter in his open mouth. Neither twin moved. He started to go look for Jordan and Percy but at that point he realised that he was going to need a hangover potion or possibly a hangover portion bath mixed with intravenous hangover potion. "Bloody fucking 'ell." He put his back against the wall, slid down and then leaned over, resting his head on the cool, cool stone of the floor. He didn't even move when the door opened.
"Oliver! Olvier, where...oh. Ha-ha!" An older man in outdoor-type clothing walked over and knelt down next to his son. "I ken you boys had a good time, aye? Well, what'd yer letter say, son? Who'd ye get?"
Oliver opened one eye. "What are you on about, Da? And not so loud."
"Dinnae tell me you don't know about the law...when'd you start this little drinking session?"
"What day is it?"
Oliver's father laughed long and, unfortunately for the sleeping occupants of the croft, much too loudly. "You started after the match, eh? This'll sober you lot up quick, I wager. Got a letter, right?"
"Yeah, something from the Ministry. Here." He pushed the letter towards his father, still resting his face on the cool stone of the floor."
"Nah, sorry lad, cannae help ye there. Only you can open it."
"Fine." Oliver rolled over on his back, opened the envelope and saw the first page looked like legalese so he tossed it aside. His agent did all the legal stuff, so instead he saw a name on the second page. "Who is Daphne Greengrass and why is she writing me? Is she suing me?"
"She's not suing you, boy, that's gonna be yer wife."
Oliver closed his eyes and let his arm fall onto his stomach. "Did you and Mum sign me up for that matchmaking thing? I told you it doesn't work and I'm..."
"Ministry letter, son." The elder Wood tapped his son on the shoulder. "Come on, Ollie, wake up. Try and get outta that fog. Marriage law from the Ministry. Greengrass, eh? Can't say that I'd a picked them for you, I'm sure meeting the lass' parents is gonna be fun."
Somewhere in the recesses of Oliver's brain synapses began firing, overcoming the dehydration from excessive alcohol intake, and eventually formed a definite, coherent thought: the Ministry had done something and he was supposed to marry someone named Daphne Greengrass. "What the bloody hell, is this a joke?" He sat up slowly. "Dad?"
"Here." He gave his son the first page of the letter he'd ignored. "Try an' read this. You lot look pitiful. I'll put on the kettle but you'd better hurry up and pull yourselves together. I know your Mum is down in Braemar seeing to your Auntie; she'll be back in a few hours if the traffic holds."
Oliver sat there with the parchment in his hands. He knew that he should read the first part like his father told him but instead he kept looking at the second page. Daphne Greengrass. He vaguely remembered the name. The only thing he was sure of was that she didn't play Quidditch as he could name the members of every Hogwarts house team from his first year to his last.
Eventually all of the inhabitants of the cottage became slightly human. Oliver's Puddlemere teammates left immediately to contact their managers, solicitors and family, some in that order, leaving Oliver with the Weasleys and Lee Jordan. They sat around the table with tea and started eventually disclosed their matches.
"Daphne Greengrass, eh?" Fred shrugged. "Slytherin, blonde, not a Death Eater or one of their supporters, that's all I know. We really need Ginny here."
"We bloody well do not." Charlie pushed his hair back from his face and leaned forward. "She'd never let any of us live this down, hungover as we are. And she'd threaten us with Mum."
"Enough about Mum." George shook his head. "I don't know how but I'm sure Mum came up with this law."
As the other Weasleys agreed Oliver looked over to Lee Jordan. "Who'd you get?"
"Fred." Lee thumbed to his right. "I got him."
George started to laugh and then saw his twin's face. "Fred?"
"It's gotta be a clerical mistake." Fred held out the parchment which read, plainly, 'Lee Jordan'. "No middle name. Forgot about that."
Lee shrugged. "Mum said it didn't matter. We'll clear it up, I get it all the time. Woman in the Ministry's named Leigh Jordan but she spells it L-e-i-g-h. Typical Ministry efficiency." He looked at Fred. "We'd make some ugly babies."
"Susan Bones." George smirked happily. "She's looking rather fit since leaving Hogwarts. Saw her in Gringotts the other day."
Percy took off his glasses roughly and tossed them on the table. "You lot act as if this is a date to a Ministry function! This is marriage! Children! You should take things much more seriously! You two..." He waved his hand towards the twins. "And you, Lee, this isn't something trivial, this is...this is marriage!"
Charlie took a sip of tea. "Ok, Perce, we get it. Who..."
"I don't know." Percy answered snippily. "I've been reading the law looking for loopholes."
Fred looked at his twin. "So Percy is all pertubed and he doesn't even know..."
George grinned. "What paragon of feminine pulchritude is paired..."
"Oh stuff it you two." Percy flipped over the piece of parchment and stopped. He started to say something, then stopped. "This is...unexpected."
Charlie grabbed the letter before the twins. "Well, at least we know the family. It's Luna Lovegood. Shut up you two."
Fred looked offended. "We didn't say anything."
"Pre-emptive." Charlie gave his brothers the look that the twins knew well, the 'stop it now or else' look. "And before you morons ask mine's Tracey Davis. Don't know anything about her."
"I think she was in Ravenclaw." Lee took a sip of tea. "But I could be wrong."
"Slytherin." Percy put on his glasses. "I had to give her a detention once for being out past curfew. Dark hair, and back then she had quite the attitude."
"Perfect for Charlie, then?" Fred winked at his brother.
Charlie looked at Fred for a moment and turned to Percy. "So, see any way possible to break the assignments?"
"Not at the moment."
"Um-hum." Charlie took another sip of tea. "Welcome to the family, Lee."
To say that the Ministry had been besieged with comment would be an understatement. Protests began in earnest, from multiple interest groups. The Squib Support Alliance even wrote in protest of the law but it all went for naught; the Ministry wheels were in motion and when that much red tape began piling up even the most adroit politician knew that ceasing the program would be next to impossible. It seemed as if all the loopholes had been closed, as well.
It was possible to leave Britain but the International Confederation of Wizards was bound, by statute, to enforce the law for all British citizens; moving to America or Australia wouldn't remove the requirement. A witch or wizard could marry a foreign partner, blood status check pending, and the displaced 'partner' would be entered back into the Ministry's pool of names. Witches and wizards who preferred the same sex were also accomodated, with the stipulation that child rearing was still required, whether by pregnancy or adoption. Marrying a non-human such as a Veela or a werewolf was permitted, once the forms had been submitted, sent to the initial committee, verified by the second committee, reviewed...so in essence, it was possible just not practical. Weddings would be performed at a massive rate, and to avoid the sheer tackiness of a mass wedding everyone would be sent their wedding date to 'assist in making this an orderly process and provide a proper lifetime memory.'
Needless to say responses were mixed. Thankfully for Miss Andrea Woolstock, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who had just finished Hogwarts, one Mr. Draco Malfoy provided papers to show that he and Miss Medusa Maria Dominico Salamanca, of the ancient Spanish Salamanca wizarding family, were betrothed prior to the marriage law. The Aurors later declined to press charges, claiming it was accidental magic, as Miss Woolstock had been found celebrating at her Muggle grandparents' house in Lower Elkstone.
As the Ministry official left in charge of the project since the Wizangamot buggered off was almost pulling out his hair in desperation he came up with an idea to hopefully make things easier; a series of Ministry-sponsored dances so that couples would have a chance to meet their match in a more 'romantic environment.' They would happen at different intervals, but it was recommended that couples meet prior to the event. And then it became required that couples would meet before the event. And then, after more pressure from the press, the Ministry official in charge of the project also left with his wife, three dogs and budgerigar for an undisclosed location by leaving a letter on a minor official's desk with the words 'I quit, good luck. You'll need it.'
Hermione sat at the table in the Burrow, looking over parchment, and glanced at the Weasley clock. It was late, that was for sure, and everyone's hand in the family was on 'Working' except for Ginny's which said 'Home.' Hermione knew for a fact that Ginny was at Grimmauld Place with Harry, but also knew better than to point this out to her future mother-in-law. Molly was in the kitchen, humming happily to herself, and Hermione turned back to her study of the marriage law.
"Hey love." Ron kissed the top of her head and slid into the chair next to her, a cup of tea and a tin of biscuits in his hands. He put the tea in front of Hermione and opened up the tin, helping himself. "Find anything?"
"Not yet. So far it appears that nothing's going to get Fred and Lee out of it."
"Like Mum said, I'm sure you'll find something."
"Ron, I know I told you that proposal was horrible, but..."
"It was horrible, Hermione." Ron shrugged. "But it worked, that's all I care about." He snuck a look into the kitchen. "Think Mum's ready for tomorrow night? Everybody and their matches? I think she might explode."
"I think she's ready, but she's worried about them. She's not letting on, though."
A click and a whirr from the family clock took their attention; Arthur's hand went from Work to Traveling and then with the POP of apparition outside the house the hand settled at Home.
Arthur entered the house and took off his hat. "Evening, Weasleys...and future Weasleys." He smiled at Hermione and then his face fell as he saw what she was working on. "If you can sort that, Hermione, I believe you'll receive another Order of Merlin. It's all anyone at the Ministry is talking about these days. Even my office." He went into the kitchen and stood behind Molly, his head on her shoulder and he sniffed loudly. "Smells wonderful."
Hermione turned to Ron. "You know I can't cook like your mum."
Ron shrugged. "Nobody cooks like Mum. We'll both learn. Or eat a lot of takeaway." He scratched his head for a moment. "So can we go to these dance thingies?" He stopped suddenly. "It isn't dress robes, is it?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, it isn't dress robes. Why?"
"Kinda like to, you know, make up for, uh..."
"You're sweet." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You really just want to see your brothers and..."
"I wanna see Charlie an' Tracey Davis. You remember her. Piece of work. Told me off all the time, said that I was a git."
"You were kind of a git."
"Yeah, I was, wasn't I? Oh well." Ron leaned next to her. "But can we go?"
"Sure, we can go. It's open to the public." Hermione stopped. "Oh my God, Ron, think of it. It's going to be..."
"Brilliant. It's going to be brilliant." He smiled widely. "After all those years being the youngest brother and..."
"Payback, I get it." She put an arm through his. "And it serves Fred and George right, sending you those types of pictures in the mail and telling you what you were missing. They'll be expecting revenge, won't they?"
"Hermione, I'm shocked, for you think I'd stoop to something like that. Of course I would."
"Then let's wait. They'll be looking for it. Imagine when it doesn't happen right away..."
He kissed her quickly on the lips. "I'm just glad you're on my side. But yeah, the twins deserve it. Percy's Percy, he's better, but I still remember stuff. But leave Charlie out of it."
"Why, did he stand up for you when you were younger?"
"Yeah, but he's worse than the twins. They're awful when they want to be but when Charlie gets even he really gets even."
Oliver sat with his parents watching telly, and even though it was a somewhat normal night he knew it wasn't going to last long. He was right.
"Ollie?" His mum looked over from her chair. "When are you going to bring this girl out to meet us? I could do a roast on Sunday."
"I don't know, Mum." Oliver looked over to his father for help but didn't get any. "I haven't even met her yet."
"Oliver!" Annie Wood turned in her chair and gave her son a pointed look. "You haven't even talked to the poor girl? She doesn't know...Eddie, help me."
Oliver watched his father click the remote and turn to him. "Not verra nice, lad. You should owl or ring the girl."
Oliver laughed. "She's a pureblood, Da, pretty sure she doesn't have a phone."
"Right, right." Eddie pulled at his beard. "Listen to your mum. Sunday dinner." He looked over to his wife. "I'll tell Ben and Fiona tomorrow."
"Great." Oliver sank down in his chair. "I'm sure she'll love meeting everyone. This'll be great."
A/N: This was written for the TLX 'Because It's For February Writing Challenge. The elements to have were 1. Crackfic, 2. Valentine's Day and 3. Marriage Law. Since I've completely blown the Valentine's Day thing, mostly because I forgot it was a part of this story, I've gone for the crack/marriage law bit. Everybody has a marriage law story so why not?
For those who are loudly whispering about by WIP stories, got it. Yep, you're right. I'll get there.
Unlike almost anything else I've written I've gone the whole Netflix binge method, so you have a finished story in 5 chapters, all posted at once. I figured the world could use some Marriage Law fics that didn't feature Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron or god forbid Malfoy. There's enough of that out and about already.
Oh, and my copy of LibreOffice has decided that spellcheck is a crutch for the weak so it stopped working. Brace yourselves. So there you have it. Enjoy. As always thanks for reading and review if you wish.