Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.

I can swear, I can joke
I say what's on my mind
If I drink, if I smoke
I keep up with the guys
And you see me holding up my middle finger to the world
Fuck your ribbons and your pearls
'Cause I'm not just a pretty girl

If someone would have told Hermione that one day she would be sitting beside Sirius Black, snuggled under a matted wool throw on his couch as they watched Miracle on 34th Street, she would have laughed to the point of tears.

She would have called them daft and told them that would never happen, not in a million—billion years.

But then again, that was before the war. Before her life as she knew it changed.

Within the span of a few months, she went from having two loving parents and a support system whose branches stretched so far and wide that it felt endless, to being entirely alone. She'd stolen her parents' memories, given them new lives, and then had lost them forever. At the time she didn't realise how bloody foolish it was—how irreparable mind magic could be. But the truth was, if she could go back and do it over, she likely wouldn't change a thing.

After all, it had saved them.

Their safety had been the single thought that had propelled her to keep going during those awful, lonely moments on the run. They were safe, out of the country, and blissfully unaware that their daughter's life was in danger. Unaware of the stupidly foolish—albeit heroic, efforts she was taking at the tender age of eighteen.

And after the dust has settled? Well, it's the after no one likes to talk about.

She'd had nowhere to go. No home to call her own, not even a bloody knut to her name. She'd always told herself if they made it through the war, she'd figure it out. She'd find a way to survive, because if she was anything—she was a survivor.

Which is precisely how she found herself living with Sirius.

Harry was the first to suggest it. The Order had disbanded, Grimmauld Place was basically empty except for Sirius, and since Hagrid's post at Hogwarts had been reinstated, he'd been able to take Buckbeak back to the castle. And while it wasn't ideal in the beginning, Sirius had money to support her—loads of it—and was more than happy to spend his parents' hard earned coin on helping her out while she finished her schooling. It didn't hurt that she was Muggleborn, which meant all of his ancestors were likely going in their graves as his offer to help her.

She felt guilty at first. Almost as if she were taking advantage of him, but within the first couple weeks of moving in, she quickly realised Sirius needed her just as much as she needed him.

He was woefully ill-prepared to manage a house on his own. The bloody wizard could barely even fry an egg, let alone shop for proper food at the market. And thus, her little family with Sirius was born. He lead the helm as the responsible big brother, and she the little sister who actually made sure shit was taken care of.

And surprisingly, it worked—even after all the times Hermione had had to remind him that clothing was not optional. But that was a small sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant having a warm bed, a full tummy, and familial love once again in her life.

"Remind me again why we're watching this in August." Hermione shot a sidelong glance at Sirius as she scooped up another large handful of popcorn from the oversized bowl that sat between them.

Sirius let out a small huff, blowing some fallen black locks from his face and he turned his attention away from the black and white film to look at her. "Because it's a Christmas film, and they always make you feel better."

"Yeah…during the Holidays they do…not in the middle of summer." Hermione laughed, eyes rolling as she glanced back to the small television set that they'd placed on top of one of Walburga's old cabinets they'd found in the attic earlier that year. "Look, the thought is really nice, but a bit unnecessary—"

"Yes, because every little girl just dreams about her Ministry mandated marriage. How silly of me to assume that you might be in need of some cheering up this week." Sirius dramatically tipped his head back on the couch, his right hand lifting to card through his hair.

"I don't not appreciate it."

"You'd just rather be doing something else?"

"I mean…I do have work—"

"Fuck work—in fact, fuck the whole Ministry, you should tell them where they can shove whatever inter-departmental memo you're working on," Sirius said, giving a crude gesture towards her work bag that sat on the small table across the room. "I still can't believe they're actually enforcing that bloody law!"

That was one thing Hermione couldn't argue with. How the Magical Marriages Act of 1621 was even still an active law within the modern British Ministry of Magic was actually fairly mind-blowing. From what she could gather from the Ministry's 'momentous announcement', the law had been established to circumnavigate the low magical population following the Pendle Witch Trials. It had been a time of great loss for the already small wizarding population in Great Britain, and by forcing what they called 'magical marriages', the Ministry thought they were certain to ensure a better chance of magical offspring from wizarding parents.

After its semi-successful run during the seventeen hundreds, apparently no one had ever thought to revoke the Act over the years. It appeared to have been simply forgotten about—had fallen from living memory. Until now.

"Yeah, well, here we are…" Hermione pushed herself up from the deep recline on the couch moving the popcorn bowl to the rickety coffee table. "I don't necessarily like it, but you saw how the Wizengamot shut down Michael's attempts at stopping it. He had to spend a week in a holding cell according to Harry— just for filing a stop motion."

"Oh it's not your lot I'm worried about," Sirius said, lifting his hands to lace behind his head, arms bent wide. "You'll be fine…you're young enough to see through the change. It's the people in between—like those that are Bill and Charlie's age . They're already set in their ways, established even. They are going to get properly fucked over by this law. Those poor bastards."

Hermione's head snapped towards the wizard, brows furrowing. "Excuse me?" If her tone didn't make it clear, the flash of indignation in her eyes should have let him know he ought to stop while he was ahead. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sirius glanced down the length of his nose at her, surprise colouring the smoke gray in his eyes. "Just that you'll be fine. I mean, yes, it's unconventional, and yes, probably not everyone's match is going to be perfect, but it's not as if they're going to match you with some ancient wizard. You're going to get someone like Neville, or—Harry! And honestly, how bloody bad will it be?"

"Oh I don't know, how does shagging your childhood best friend sound to you, Sirius?" Hermione's brow arched as she cocked her head to the side.

"Oh come on, Hermione. It's not going to be that bad."

"Why don't you just pop on over to James' and shag him then? Since it's no big deal—in fact, I can just fire call Remus and offer to watch Teddy so you two can—"

"Okay, first off, way different!"

Hermione's jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she curled her hand into the wool throw that was over both of their laps. She snatched it off his legs in a quick flash of impeccable immaturity. If he thought she would willingly share her blanket with someone who clearly understood so little about why this was most definitely a big deal, he was sorely mistaken. "I can't even believe you're trying to sit there and tell me that this isn't a big deal. Sirius, I don't want to shag anyone!"

"Well maybe that's your problem," he offered, lifting his hands from the back of his neck. When Hermione swatted at his stomach, he instinctively rolled to the far end of the couch, his jersey shorts creeping up his tattoo covered thighs. "When did you get so bloody violent? Weren't you that nice little witch who got mad at me for fighting with Snape?"

"About the same time you became so bloody dense."

Sirius let out a small bark of laughter, leaning back on the arm of the couch as he kicked his legs out over the cushions. "Look—and listen. I'm not saying this isn't a bad situation. Remember, I tried to make you happy with this god's awful movie." He gestured towards the television, which still held the grainy black and white images of a Christmas past. "But, what I am saying is that it's not going to be the end of the world for you. It won't even be that bad for Bill. They'll find you a suitable wizard, and you'll marry and find some sort of happiness through it."

Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line, eyes still narrowed on him as she leaned back against the opposite arm of the couch, her fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the top of her thigh. She wanted to argue and tell him he was not only wrong, but that it was rather bold of him to assume that she would just fall happily in love with some ministry assigned husband.

Moreover, she wanted to shout at him for ignoring the fact that he wasn't exempt from these bloody laws either. How the man could be acting so cavalier about his own future was honestly more bothersome that not.

She'd come to understand more and more of what made him tick as the years had crept by. He was no longer Harry's Godfather, he was like her adoptive brother, and she knew him. Sirius wasn't just brash and unrefined as a means of sticking it to pureblood tradition. No, his personality was a direct result of years of mental and physical abuse by a strong willed woman and a father who wouldn't dare defy the matriarch.

As a small child he would lash out, physically throw things, or destroy objects around the house on purpose in fits of rage that seemed too big for his little body, but Walburga could control him. She'd lock him in his room, or restrain him through the worst of it. She'd magically repair whatever he broke before turning her wand on him.

As he grew, her hold on him had slipped further and further away, and then Hogwarts happened. He'd found a home in those drafty castle walls, and for the first time in his life he felt what true love was—what it meant to be unconditionally loved no matter what mistake he made.

He'd found this love in his group of friends—a little family pieced together, born from laughter and tears. They'd started out as dorm mates, but before that first winter break stole them away to their respective families, they'd already forged a brotherhood that would last them a lifetime.

By then Walburga's methods of restraining Sirius were more dangerous than before. Unforgivables and other tortures were used liberally, stoking the subtle defiance within him.

He grew his hair long, because his mother hated it.

He started wearing Muggle clothing home, and using slang he learned from the Muggleborns.

It all seemed to enrage her further, and in turn, please Sirius to no end. His teenage years spent under her roof were an endless game of provocation and retaliation, with both his mother and him as equal participants, and he seemed to only establish the rebel persona as a means of pissing off his family. Even after his mother's death, it appeared as though Sirius would forever be stuck in this in-between stage—a perpetual man-child, one foot in adulthood, and the other in teenage flippancy.

Hermione grew to understand him and the reasons he was who he was—especially his carefree attitude towards most things in life. She learnt to ignore the childish banter and pranks; she would overlook when he forgot to tidy the kitchen for the tenth night in a row, or even when he invited over random strangers to their flat after a night out drinking. Because while he was daft at times, and thoughtless, and kind of a shite— underneath the brash exterior, he was still that nervous little boy just trying to swim through murky waters to safety.

"You know. I'm genuinely surprised you're not more upset." Hermione sighed, letting the annoyance that filled her moments earlier slip from the centre of her chest. With a deep breath she pushed it out with the air in her lungs.

It would do no good to get mad at him. It wasn't like he was responsible for the decision to enforce the arbitrary law that should have been struck from the books centuries ago.

"Well, I'm not exactly keen on the idea." Sirius explained, bending one of his legs and leaning his forearm rest against it casually. "I'm going to lose the best roommate I've ever had—if you tell Moony that, I will deny it, just so you know."

"I wouldn't dare." Hermione let a small bubble of laughter creep up her throat and she reached up, fingers quickly unwinding the elastic band that tied her curls to the top of her head and she shook them out, the tingle of her hair coming down after being piled on her hair for the day sending a small shiver down her spine. "And as flattered as I am that your only concern has about been me thus far, surely you're at least a little sore about your own involvement."

Sirius, whose eyes had drifted back to the television, snapped his attention back towards her, a quizzical arch lifting his brow. "I'm sorry—what?"

"Yeah…you know, your magical marriage." Hermione clarified, tucking her curls behind her ears. "I honestly thought you would be down at the Ministry by now fighting for your forever-bachelorhood, but maybe this is growth on your part. So congratulations, you've finally succeeding in being more mature than I am."

"No, no, no." Sirius shook his head, a slow bleeding panic settling over his face as a nervous laughter flitted from his lips. "I'm exempt from the law. Too old."

"Uh…no you aren't."

"Yes, I am. The cut off is forty! And at forty-three, I'm three years overcooked, I'm afraid."

Hermione's hand slipped to her lips, trying to prevent the incredulous smile. Of course, this made so much bloody sense. He'd assumed he wasn't affected—that's why he was being so fucking supportive! He wasn't matured, or insightful, he was still a selfish brat and thought he had escaped the same fate that had befallen her.

"Oh Sirius." Hermione sighed, tsking him as she leaned forward, and set her hand on his leg, giving it a gentle pat in feigned sympathy. "You're so bloody thick headed."

"What! I'm not wrong!" The creep of anxiety lined his tone, gray eyes growing rounder by the second.

"The cut off his forty five. You're two years shy." She said with a sardonic smile, and when he launched off the couch, Hermione leaned back in laughter, watching as he nearly upended the coffee table in his hurry to rush to the kitchen to find his pile of post that was likely still sitting on the edge of the countertop unopened.

She listened to the heavy thump of his bare feet on the wooden flooring, tracking his movements through their home, and soon the sound of parchment ripping open could be heard followed by a distinct "Muggle Fucker!"

Ah yes. He's finally gotten around to reading the damn post.

Hermione reached out, plucking the bowl of popcorn from the askew table and she let it sit on the flat of her belly, digging into the buttery treat and pulling small handfuls in her mouth as a self-satisfied happiness washed over her. Serves him right, acting like a proper adult when he should have been commiserating with her.

She took his absence for opportunity and quickly turned off the telly, knowing full well he wasn't going to suffer through Yuletide cheer when doom and gloom was on their horizon.

With just the soft crackle of the magical fire from their hearth, Hermione sat silent, waiting for Sirius to come back into the room so they might be able to have an actual conversation about how utterly fucked this all was now that he realised he was just as affected as she was.

But when he came back in the room, his footsteps still loud and thumping with clear outrage, he had a bottle of Ogden's Finest in his hands, the cork of the spirit between his teeth as he tried to wiggle it free.

There's the reaction she was looking for!

She sat up, quickly tucking her legs against her lap as she scooted on the couch to make room for him. "Is that from your good stash?" She questioned, watching him climb over the back of the couch to settle next to her, nearly knocking the bowl of popcorn out of her lap.

The cork was yanked free from the bottle with a soft pop, and a bit of the amber liquid splashed across his cheeks, clinging to the permanent five-o-clock shadow the wizard seemed to have. He spit the cork to the floor, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as he settled back against the couch, bringing the bottle to his lips and he took a large pull. "Yeah." He hissed as he lowered the bottle, and even from her position Hermione could see the sparkle of tears that pooled in the corner of his eyes at the harsh bite of the cinnamon whiskey. "I need to get right pissed if I'm going to deal with this shite."

Hermione quickly returned the popcorn bowl to the coffee table and wiped her greasy fingers against the woolen throw before she leaned forward to snatch the bottle from his hand before he could take a second drink. A protest had already begun to slip from his lips, but died when she tipped back the bottle, matching his drink with her own.

The Fire Whiskey burned its way down the throat, setting her organs aflame as it settled low in her belly. She could feel her skin almost instantly flush, a direct result of this particular spirit. Under normal circumstances she avoided this drink as much as possible—she ended to do stupid shite on it, like trying to ride a broomstick, or cutting her bloody hair, but tonight clearly called for something of this caliber.

"I couldn't agree more." Hermione breathed her response, holding out the bottle for him to take.

A slow cheeky grin lifted Sirius lips, and something almost like pride sparkled in his eyes as he took the bottle from her. "That's my girl." He teased, tossing her a wink with a small tip of the bottle before he took another pull.

She didn't intend on drinking with Sirius on a Tuesday night—especially Fire Whiskey, but dammit to hell if that burn and the fuzzy warmth it had already given her didn't make the reality of the upcoming marriage law at least a bit more palatable.

Song: Pretty Girl by Cheat Codes x Cade Remix

Well, this is happening. Some of your might know, but Marriage Law is my favorite trope. It was the trope of the very first fanfiction I read ages ago and it's always held a special place in my heart. So, of course, in my infinite wisdom I thought "Hey, what if Hermione was paired with two wizards?!" which then resulted in "Oh my gods, James and Harry." So basically, this fic is the brain child of crazy ramblings and has literally consumed my life for the past two weeks. I have a decent chunk pre-written already, and as my selected nano fic, I will likely have this finished in no time (here's to hoping!). As it currently sits, expect about 37 chapters. I will release once a week (Thursdays PST).

I am lucky enough to have a literal team helping me bring this to you! Wildflowerweasley, IKEAwhatyoudidthere & Disenchantedglow are my dreamtime, and let me tell you, the men's 92 Olympic basketball team has got nothing on these three!

I can't wait to dive in and keep bringing you more of this fic—so buckle up! It's going to be wild.

until next time. xx