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Summary
It was all Sirius' fault. Regulus had caught him flirting with a muggle-born and immediately reported it back to their parents and Sirius had been stuck, backed into a corner. He either had to marry a pureblood of his choosing, or his parents would pick for him. If he was not the heir then he probably could have gotten away with saying "fuck you" to his parents. He would have been blasted from the tree and disowned but he would have survived.
As the heir, he would likely meet a more grisly fate. He wouldn't just be disowned… he would have to disappear, which would be absolutely fine if that didn't really mean that his body would likely turn up at the bottom of the Thames.
So he was left with no choice.
He had to get married, and there was only one pureblood that he would even consider marrying, but James was his very straight best friend who could never love Sirius in the way he yearned for. What Sirius didn't count on was that James was an arse that didn't think about consequences.
"So?" He’d said with his signature cocky smile that made Sirius go weak at the knees. "Just pretend to date me?"
Series
- Part 21 of Prongsfoot Stories