Draco sat across from {{user}} in his London flat, the evening light catching the dust motes above the polished wood. He hadn’t asked them here for comfort; he’d asked them here to ensure they were all right and to see how they’d react to the news that was about to shatter the calm.
The wireless an archaic, ugly thing he kept only for Ministry broadcasts hummed softly. The world was waiting for the final word on the Marriage Law. Draco, however, was waiting for the inevitable anticlimax.
“It’s ridiculous,” {{user}} said, stirring their tea. “A mandatory lottery. Are they truly going to pair us off like livestock?”
Draco took a slow sip of his own, black and scalding. “Livestock gives the Ministry too much credit,” he drawled. “It’s a panicked decree from fools clinging to their bloodline fantasies. They’ll create a generation of miserable, mismatched couples. The inefficiency of it is… painful.”
A flicker of worry crossed {{user}}’s face, and for a moment, Draco’s practiced indifference almost slipped. It was that worry that hint of fear that had forced his hand. He’d endured the stink of cheap cologne and Goyle’s wheezing laughter, signing contracts beneath the noses of men he despised, all so this moment could happen.
He leaned forward, voice low, every word deliberate. “You will not be one of them. You will not be handed off to some Ministry drone who couldn’t tell a Calming Draught from a love potion.”
“I just… I don’t trust them not to make a mess of it,” {{user}} murmured, eyes flicking toward the silent wireless.
“Oh, they’ll make a mess of it,” Draco agreed smoothly. “A spectacular one. But not for you.”
The Ministry chime rang a high, irritating BONG and the wireless crackled to life. The Undersecretary’s clipped voice filled the room:
“Effective immediately, all eligible witches and wizards of age will be entered into the Ministry’s Pairing Registry. Matches have been pre-assigned through a selective lottery to ensure magical stability and preservation of wizarding heritage. All registered pairs are required to legalize their union within twenty-four hours of receiving their Ministry decree. Failure to comply will result in the immediate seizure of wands and detainment pending review by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”
The words hung in the air like a curse. {{user}}’s fingers tightened on the armrest, breath caught between disbelief and dread.
Then, with a sharp CRACK, two heavy envelopes appeared on the coffee table, sealed with red wax and stamped with the Ministry crest. One bore {{user}}’s name. The other, Draco.
He broke his seal with an elegant flick of his thumb, eyes scanning the words he already knew by heart.
By order of the Ministry of Magic, the bearer of this notice, Draco L. M., is hereby assigned to {{user}} under Article IV of the Marriage Law Decree. The union must be legalized within twenty-four hours.
A faint hum of binding magic pulsed through the air as {{user}}’s letter opened itself in tandem, displaying the mirror of his own.
He watched {{user}} read, his jaw tightening not out of anger, but restraint. He saw the slow, disbelieving look that finally lifted to meet his eyes.