The marriage contract is signed before either of you speak.

It is not romance that binds you to Sirius Orion Black, it is necessity.

The House of Black requires continuity. An heir. Stability. Restoration so complete that even the faintest whisper of scandal is smothered beneath legitimacy.

You are the solution.

The arrangement is impeccable on parchment. Your lineage is respectable, your reputation unblemished, your dowry strategically sound. The union pleases Parliament. It pleases Lady Black. It silences those who still murmur about his exile.

It does not please him.

The wedding is tasteful. Controlled. Watched.

Sirius stands beside you in dark tailoring that makes him look carved from shadow and discipline. His posture is faultless. His expression unreadable. Only the tightness in his jaw betrays resistance.

He does not look at you during the vows.

But when he places the ring upon your finger, his touch lingers half a breath too long, not affectionate. Not hesitant.

Assessing.

The carriage ride to the London townhouse is quiet but not peaceful. Outside, society celebrates the triumph of alliance. Inside, you sit opposite your husband, the man who is both your greatest social protection and your most formidable adversary.

He removes his gloves with deliberate care.

“You understand,” he says at last, voice level, polished, “that this arrangement need not be… unpleasant.”

It is not warmth. It is negotiation.

The townhouse doors open before you can answer. Servants bow. Your name is announced with his, attached now. Permanently.

Lady Black watches from the upper landing.

That night, the corridors feel too narrow for two people bound by obligation rather than affection.

You are shown to a bedchamber prepared for a duchess. Silk hangings. Banked fire. A decanter already poured.

He enters only after dismissing the staff.

There is distance between you, several measured steps, yet the air feels close.

“I will not treat you as collateral,” he says quietly, not looking at you now but at the fire. “Whatever my mother believes this marriage secures.”

A pause.

“But do not mistake civility for surrender.”

There it is.

Not cruelty.

Not indifference.

Challenge.

This marriage may guarantee his lineage, but it does not guarantee his obedience.