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“Excuse me?”
“You’re not an idiot, I know you heard me.”
“I’m honestly still trying to wrap my head around it.”
Pansy rolled her eyes at his theatrics.
“Honestly. You’re a grown man, bloody toughen up and act like it.”
Sirius cut her with a deadpanned look.
“You just asked me to take over my baby cousin’s marriage contract.” He remarked dryly. “To you.”
“Would you rather he marry me instead of your godson? Or would you rather they be miserable too? Because from where I’m standing, this contract is legally binding, and dictates that a son of the House of Black must marry a daughter of the House of Parkinson.” She mocked scathingly.
Sirius sighed long-suffering. He glanced as his half empty glass of fire whiskey, mumbled ‘fuck it’ and threw it back like a shot he would regret in the morning.
He took the porfered marriage contract from Pansy’s hand and read it over with his liquor-muddled mind. Fuck. She was right. Legally binding.
Bloody fuck!
He slammed down his empty glass tumbler and sighed, returning the contract to Pansy.
“Fuck me, I’m sure I’ll regret this later, but, sure. Why not?”
He sighed.
“What could possibly go wrong?”