Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling, and no money is being made off of this.

A/N: This is based on the premise that wizards, like Muggles, have to apply for marriage licenses. Hope you like it.

"Wotcher, we're here for a marriage license."

The somewhat harrassed-looking Ministry official eyed the couple standing at the counter. The woman, who had spoken, looked young; she had a pale, heart-shaped face and short, rather astonishingly pink hair. The man looked older and rather worn; his robes were shabby and his light brown hair was graying. Oh well, he'd seen stranger couples these days - there were just too many of them coming.

" 'Course you are," the official grumbled. " 'S what everyone's here for nowadays. Never had so many people coming at a time before, though I've been told it was something like this during the first war. Didn't work here then, but I can see why it was like this. Everyone all in a rush 'cause they just realized they could die the next day..."

He switched to a businesslike tone. "Either of you been married before?" he asked, eyeing the man.

"No," said the man.

"Well, at least that'll cut out some time on the record searches."

"Record searches?" The woman frowned.

"Obviously. Before we never did much searching for Ministry records of people who want to marry - aside from certain essential rules, it's up to them who they want to marry - but naturally now careful scrutiny is necessary. For example, if someone's Ministry records say they were Imperiused recently, or even needed to be Obliviated for something big, they have to wait a certain length of time before they get married, because there's a chance their mind might not be entirely stable yet. Then people are in such a rush nowadays, they don't even really know who they're marrying. Their future spouses don't tell them things. We've had couples come here only to have one find out that the other was once convicted as a Death Eater. Changes the relationship somewhat, you know, 'specially in these times."

The official put on a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and handed the woman a quill. "Print your full legal name in the little box on that side of the ledger - any information the Ministry has on you will come out on my side."

The woman cast a somewhat worried look at the man with her, who gave a slight shrug, and wrote her name. The Ministry official glanced at the words from Ministry records appearing on his ledger. "Miss Nymphadora Tonks...all right...your mother was a Black?" he said suddenly, peering at her over his spectacles.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Hmm." He looked back down at the records. "Ah, you work for the Ministry...an Auror. Looks like you're all right then...what's this little note here? A Metamorphmagus?" He glanced at her again. She nodded. "Rare," he said, "but no special rules, I suppose. You're all right...next."

The woman bit her lip and looked as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind; she stepped away from the counter, squeezing the man's arm lightly before he picked up the quill and wrote his name in the box.

"Remus John Lupin..." read the official. Then his eyes widened and he jumped back from the ledger, drawing his wand instinctively. "You're a - the Ministry has you down as a - a werewolf!" He stared wildly at the man in front of him. "Is that - true?"

"Yes, it is," said the man quietly.

"So what?" added the woman angrily, taking his arm.

"Are - are you telling me," spluttered the official, his eyes widening even further, "that you know he is a werewolf and have agreed to marry him?"

An angry flush appeared on her cheeks. "Yes, I am," she said, her dark eyes flashing, still holding onto the man's arm.

The official moistened his lips and eyed the werewolf. "If he has threatened you into it, my dear, you can..."

She made a noise like a snarl and seemed about to draw her own wand, but the man restrained her. He looked steadily at the official, although the pain in his eyes was evident. "You are insulting both of us," he said firmly. "I have been vouched for by many respected people...such as the - late - headmaster of Hogwarts..."

"Dumbledore's dead!" said the official, staring at him. "How do I know that..."

"You can ask the current headmistress..."

"Listen, I can't just let someone marry a werewolf, it's..."

"Isn't that my decision?" said the woman swiftly, cutting him off and speaking in a furious rush. "If you and the other Ministry officials are so dense as to think in black and white terms, fine, but there are people who know that werewolves aren't all bad - and I'm an Auror for the Ministry, damnit, as you saw in those bloody records." She raised her chin and shot him a piercing glare. "I love this man and that should be enough for anybody. And no," she added with another glare, "I am not under the Imperius curse, so don't you dare suggest it."

"I assure you she made this decision willingly," said the man quietly. "If you will refuse to believe me, at least you must believe her. And if you would deign to look at the rest of the records the Ministry has on me" - he motioned at the ledger in front of him - "you will find little else to justify your fears. We came for a marriage license. Will you give us one?"

The official looked uncomfortable. "Listen, I can't. Even if I - it's the law, you've got to understand that."

"The law can go to hell."

He looked nervously at the woman standing before him, her eyes flashing dangerously at him. "You're an Auror for the Ministry, surely you ought to understand that the law -"

"Working in the government does not neccesarily blind one to its faults," said the man, looking piercingly at him. "In fact, it often makes them clearer."

The official swallowed. "I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it, at least now. Maybe later...I don't know. Perhaps, if suspicions are less prevalent, you can come back..."

"When?" the woman interjected.

"When Voldemort is defeated?" asked the man, raising his eyebrows.

The official jumped. "Galloping gargoyles, don't say the name!" he gasped, staring at the man as though he were crazy.

"We might all be dead by then," said the woman angrily, her eyes now glinting with what looked like tears.

The official shivered slightly. "I'm sorry," he muttered again. "It just can't be done." He looked away from the couple. "It's getting late, I've got to close up now. Good evening."

A/N: There'll probably be a tiny bit more to come, where Remus and Tonks discuss what happened in this scene.