Chapter Text
“This can not be the only option.”
“Severus, please. You’re the best duelist we know. We’ve already asked everyone else. We don’t have any other options.”
“Why can’t someone else do it?” he demanded. There had to be plenty of options. There were many skilled duelists out there who were on better terms with the Boy Who Lived.
Potter shifted nervously behind Arthur, who sighed. The usually chipper man’s enthusiasm had an air of desperation to it today. “Everyone else is already married or not a good enough duelist. We need someone who we know will win. Not someone who just might.”
“I can think of plenty unmarried and accomplished duelists,” Severus retorted.
Arthur pursed his lips. “We’ve already tried everyone, Severus. Apparently, Kingsley has prior vows, even though he’s not legally married. And the stipulations of the contract require an heir. Flitwick can’t have children since his parents were different species. And Minerva is too old to have biological children, even through a surrogate.”
Severus sneered, thinking. He ran through other potential options in his head, but they were right… there was no one else. His scowl deepened. This could not happen. We thought of the most powerful people he knew. They were all dead now. But… “What about Dumbledore?” Potter looked confused, and very concerned, at Severus’ suggestion. So did Arthur. Severus scowled. “Aberforth! Not Albus! I’m not old and senile yet!”
Arthur sighed. “I don’t think Abe can have children either. He didn’t want to pass on his genes, so he got sterilized.”
“Please, Sir.” Potter’s unusually meek and polite voice made the man sigh. The boy looked like his world was ending.
He growled and clenched his fists. “Fine!”
***
“Entering the chamber of ministry-sanctioned duels.” The eerie disembodied voice greeted them as they opened the door to the room where Potter’s fate would be decided. His fate didn’t depend on the result of the duel. The result of the duel was already decided. Severus knew he would win, should the duel take place. Rabsastan Lestrange was a formidable wizard, but Severus Snape was exemplary. Better by a long shot. Potter’s fate depended on something else entirely. Severus had a plan. He had yet to discuss it with Potter, but the boy had seemed to give up after finding one simple solution, even though that solution would ruin both of their lives.
Severus had spent many hours sneering over the boy’s decision, but he could admit that, with what the boy knew, it probably was the best option. Severus, however, knew better. Severus knew Rabastan Lestrange. The man, while far from a good person, wasn’t mean. He didn’t hurt people without reason. Severus remembered what he was like during the war. The Longbottoms weren’t the only people he tortured, but Severus also remembered the potions. Rabastan would frequently commission Severus to make two types of potions for him. Calming draughts and hormonal steroids. Severus had decided early on he didn’t want to know what the hormones were for, but he knew his fellow Death Eater used the calming draughts after the violent raids he took part in. He knew the man didn’t like hurting people.
Severus on the other hand was undeniably mean. He didn’t delight in physical torture, but oh, he got such joy from making children and even grown adults cower and cry. He knew it was wrong, and he didn’t care. That’s why he refused to acknowledge praise for his sacrifices during the war. He didn’t do it because he was a good person; he did it out of obligation. He promised Dumbledore he would, for Lily’s sake. In fact, every good thing that he’d ever done was out of his love for Lily. Even this. If he married Potter, it would be for the boy’s mother. He could admit that the boy didn’t deserve to marry a torturous Death Eater, but he would never have offered his help if it wasn’t Lily’s boy asking for it.
The boy would be happier being married to Rabastan. Because, whatever the formerly convicted Death Eater was up to — and he was up to something, no Slytherin Death Eater would marry The Boy Who Lived out of misguided love — his primary goal wasn’t to hurt the man he aimed to make his husband.
Severus sighed. This would all be so much easier if the man hadn’t appealed to be released from Azkaban. The shifty Death Eater had claimed that his lack of involvement in the second war was proof that he was reformed. Severus did find this curious. He hadn’t seen the man at all since the first Death Eater meeting after the Dark Lord had broken his followers out of Azkaban. After that, it seemed the man had disappeared. Perhaps Azkaban really had changed him, and he had fled, though it was unlikely. The man was a blood-purist after all. He wasn’t genocidal like his fanatic brother and sister-in-law, but he was a supremacist. He believed wizards to be intrinsically above muggles and squibs. Severus would never admit it out loud, but a part of him agreed. Wizards were just so much more powerful than muggles. The muggles could use their technologies to synthesize power, but it wasn’t the same as having it innately within. The difference between him and Rabastan, Severus reasoned, was that Severus believed all wizards to be on equal footing, regardless of blood status. So Severus’ beliefs weren’t as bad. Severus sighed again. After over a decade of guilt, he’d thought that that weight would be lifted from his shoulders, but still it resided. He truly was loathsome. But at least he’d never tried to trick someone into marriage!
Rabastan Lestrange, the bastard, had dug out some old wizarding law books. He’d unearthed some long forgotten traditions that allowed a wizard to claim the hand of a chosen witch to be his wife, as long as no one could best him in a duel. This tradition was societal laid to rest for a reason; it was barbaric. Since it had gone so out of fashion, the Wizengamot had taken for granted its lack of utilization and never officially outlawed it.
So now, here they were. Rabastan Lestrange had vied for Potter’s hand in marriage, and the boy, while skilled, was no match for his challenger. He couldn’t have won the duel himself, so he needed to recruit outside help. No unmarried witch or wizard was brave enough to take on the Death Eater, so the boy had come to him, of all people. It was a safe choice, in terms of ensuring Rabastan wouldn’t win. Severus was the national vice-champion in dueling, second only to one of the men from Lockhart’s daring stories.
But, while Severus could win the duel, that didn’t mean that he was the boy’s best option. Severus was a miserable person, and he would make a miserable husband. The contractual marriage that Rabastan had trapped Potter into was also miserable. The obligations were not something to be taken lightly. The marriage was more than just a signed paper. It would be a genuine marriage. The couple would be required to live together and, most importantly, produce an heir. When the contract was originally created, this necessitated consummation between man and woman, however, nowadays, with magical surrogacy, same-sex couples could also meet the requirements. Nobody had considered the contract being used in such a way, so, when the Wizengamot declared it lawful, they were shocked. The Boy Who Lived really could be trapped in a marriage with a Death Eater if this went wrong, or even if it went right according to Severus’ plan. Because the man would not be forced to marry and have a child if there was anything he could do about it.
When Severus and Potter entered the dueling chamber, they found that Rabastan was already there, standing along the back wall with his arms crossed. The ministry-appointed arbiter was nervously twiddling his wand in the middle of the room, never facing away from Rabastan, but never quite looking at him either. His face lit up as he saw The Boy Who Lived, looking relieved to have more than just the dark wizard for company.
“Welcome, Mr Potter. Master Snape.” He eyed Severus. Most of his words were directed towards Potter, despite the boy not really having any consequence in the duel. His only reason for being here was to know the outcome of the duel immediately. “Now that all parties have arrived,” The arbiter continued, “we may prepare for the duel.” He stepped to the center of the dueling platform and held his wand at the ready, preparing to magically bind the duelists to the rules. Rabastan began stepping forward too. He didn’t even spare Potter a glance. His attention was focused on Severus.
“Not so fast,” Severus' commanding voice halted everyone in the room.
“Severus?” Severus gritted his teeth. He hated that the boy had taken to using his first name.
“Potter.” He turned from the Death Eater and arbiter to the boy who was expecting to marry him the next day. He led him further away from the others. “I wish to speak with Rabastan before the duel.”
The boy furrowed his brow and fidgeted nervously. “Why? You’re still going to—”
“I will duel him if I find it necessary, but, as it is, I think marrying him may be a better option.”
The boy looked as if he’d received a punch to the gut. “What?!” His strangled whisper was little more than an exhale. “How could you say that? We agreed—”
“I know what we agreed on. I apologize for not discussing it with you sooner, but, if Rabastan is how I remember him from the first war, the situation may not be as dire as you believe.” He tried to speak in a soothing voice, but by the look on the boy’s face, he failed. He tried not to roll his eyes. “I just want to speak with him to determine his motives. If I think you will be in danger with him, I will go through with the duel. I do not plan to throw you to the snakes. I just want to know what he is up to before I sign my life away to you.” He growled the last words.
Potter was shaking, but he took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, but please don’t back out of this without telling me.”
This time, Severus did roll his eyes. “I will not, Mr Potter. Even if I determine Rabastan is harmless, I will let you make the final decision. I just hope you will trust my judgment in this situation. I know the man better than you do after all.”
With those words, Potter truly did relax. His nod this time was more confident, and Severus turned and strode across the room to Rabastan and the arbiter. As the arbiter opened his mouth to speak, Severus interrupted him “I am not quite yet ready, Sir.” He spoke politely to the confused man.
Rabastan looked confused. “Not ready for a duel, Severus? I’m surprised at you.”
Severus sneered. “A word, Bastan?”
Though the man raised an eyebrow at the familiar name said in the unforgiving tone, he followed Severus to the side of the room opposite where Severus had been speaking with Potter a moment ago.
“What are you doing, Severus?” The man asked impatiently, uncrossing his arms before Severus could say anything. “I’m not backing out of this. You can’t convince me otherwise. I don’t have any other options!” The man gestured wildly, as expressive as ever. Severus was caught off guard. The man was missing a hand. Not just a hand — his entire left forearm.
“You cut off your Dark Mark?” he asked incredulously.
The man threw both his hand and his stump in the air. “What was I supposed to do? The second I was late to a meeting, Our Lord started torturing me through it. But I could see how weak he was compared to the first war. I wasn’t going to fight for the losing side.”
Severus blinked. “You really weren’t involved at all, were you?”
“No!” The man rubbed his truncated arm absently, seemingly having picked up a new nervous habit. “I do not want to go back to Azkaban, Severus! Marrying Potter is the best way to ensure that I don’t! You won’t change my mind on this! If I die in this duel, then so be it! It’s better than going back there!”
Severus raised an eyebrow. He’d been held in Azkaban briefly before his trial at the end of both wars, and he knew how unpleasant of a place it was. And Rabastan had been there for fourteen years; he couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go back. “I’m not trying to convince you to change your mind; I merely wished to know your motives for doing this, and it seems that I have just achieved that goal.”
The fight left Rabastan. He gestured with his stump towards the arbiter. “So are we doing this, or what?” Severus smirked. The man was as impatient as ever.
“No. I don’t believe we are.”
Rabstan blinked. “What?”
“I don’t believe we will be dueling today, Rabastan. But I will be making you take a vow to treat your future husband well.
Rabastan blinked, shifting his eyes to look at the twenty-year-old standing on the other side of the room. “You… You’re just going to… let me?” He looked to Severus.
Severus blinked, then scowled, remembering he hadn’t actually discussed this with Potter yet. “No. I suppose not. One moment.”
He turned and walked briskly back to where Potter was anxiously waiting. “You should marry him.”
Potter gaped, dumbfounded. “What?! What happened? What did you talk about?” His eyes darted towards the former Death Eater. Huh. Fancy that. There was more than just Severus and Draco now.
“We talked about his motives. Rabastan is an egotistical, self-serving man, but he is not a bully. His only goal here is to stay out of Azkaba—”
“But he’s already out of Azkaban!”
Severus raised a brow. “This is not the muggle world, Mr Potter. He can be retried for his crimes if the Wizengamot deems it necessary. Which they likely will; no one likes that he is free.”
Potter wrung his hands. “But that just means we’re giving him what he wants!”
“Yes… However,” he continued at Potter's incredulous look, “we are also getting what we want.”
“No we’re not!” Potter half-yelled, loud enough for the others to hear. “How is this getting what I want?!”
Severus raised a brow. “Do you want to be married to me, Mr Potter?”
Potter rolled his eyes insolently. “No. But I don't wan—”
“I don’t want to marry you either.” Potter stopped in his tracks, looking pained. If Severus didn’t truly believe this to be the best outcome for all involved, he would have felt guilty preying on the boy’s hero complex, but, as it was, this was a necessary evil. “The contract already prevents Rabastan from doing anything truly heinous, and we will make him make the standard marriage vows, covering anything else you are concerned about. He’s not doing this out of ill-will towards you. He’s simply acting out of fear.” The boy seemed to consider this. “Besides,” Severus rolled his eyes. “You’re saving your children from a life with me as their father.”
Potter actually snickered at that. It seemed the boy wasn’t as despairing as he’d seemed. Despite his slight smile, his eyes looked sad. “We’re still damning children to a life with him as their father.” He gestured to Rabastan, who was watching them nervously, fingers trailing over his scarred stump mindlessly.
Severus shrugged. “When we were at Hogwarts, Rabastan was nicer to me and my roommates than the other upper years were. He’s better with children than I. Nicer too.”
A small, mischievous smile played at Potter’s lips. “That’s not saying much, Sir.” Thank Merlin it was back to “Sir” instead of “Severus”.
“Brat.” He swatted the boy’s hair. “So you’ll agree to this?”
The boy sighed deeply. “You really think this is best?” He looked up pathetically into Severus’ dark eyes.
Severus nodded, certain. “I do.”
The boy sighed again before nodding. “Okay.” He looked to his future husband, only now seeming to notice his missing arm. His eyes lit up in curiosity, but he didn’t comment on it then. “I’ll do it.”