Chapter Text
“I hate this,” her sigh is so loud, Draco cannot miss the heaviness in it. He comes to her and she turns her back to him, silently urging him to tie the back of her long green dress.
“You need them to support your candidacy,” her husband reminds her and she instantly turns and glares at him, but no fury is to be found in her hazel eyes. She lifts a hand to his cheek and he bathes in the intimacy of her soft touch.
“I wish that your mother didn’t feel the need to parade me like one of her peacocks in front of an army of pureblood witches and wizards,” another sigh, but much softer this time. Draco knows there is no fight in Hermione on this matter anymore. She needs them more than they need her.
“This is going to damage my image with the progressives,” and this time it is Draco’s turn to sigh. He has heard this argument one too many times. He pulls back a lock of hair behind her ears with reverence.
“Darling, it is only a ball my mother is throwing in order to raise funds for endangered species. You cannot depend on Malfoy galleons to fund all of your campaign, and the grass root movement you have started will not cover everything. You need to make alliances, tonight is an opportunity to find out who might be willing to ally with you.”
“Still, it will damage my relationship with the movement —”, she tries to continue to argue, but Draco cuts her this time, “You know being married to a Death Eater is doing much more damage to your campaign than anything else will ever do.”
They’ve had this fight a hundred times already, yet Draco can see that his words strike their intended target as they always do. Her shoulders drop a bit, because she knows it is the most damaging part of her image in the public eye — the war hero married to the ex-convict, part of a genocidist cult.
Draco raises her chin with his right hand and busies his other hand on her hip. “An army of Weasley, as many as they may be, will not win you the election Hermione. Now let’s put on a smile and do our best to pretend you do not want to insult half of the people invited tonight and that the other half probably deserves to be in jail for one reason or another. You need this. You need them to win.”
The fire in her eyes returns and he can almost see the flames burn as bright as they do in the hearth of their home. Hermione Granger has spent a decade as a brilliant politician, knowing her best asset besides her brains and bravery is her political strategist and husband — Draco Lucius Malfoy.
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On Tuesdays, Draco has breakfast with his mother. It is a ritual they have initiated a decade ago, when his mother had expressed that she wanted to spend more time with him as his career was quickly skyrocketing.
Before he can give her his usual kiss, she interrupts him “Darling, please take a bite of your breakfast and a strong sip of coffee before you open this week’s edition of Witch Weekly. You might lose your appetite.”
Ignoring her warning, Draco sits down in front of her and promptly opens the rag that calls itself a newspaper. There, on the front page and in bold letters, is yet another takedown of his wife.
Minister-Wannabe-Granger cozying up with Pureblood Elites
Last Sunday, Hermione Malfoy (née Granger), was seen courting several Pureblood witches and wizards at Narcissa Malfoy’s gala for Endangered Flora Species. Months away from the Minister of Magic election, it is no secret that Mrs. Malfoy, currently Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot thanks to her husband’s hereditary seat, is looking to bolster support from the Pureblood Elites.
Indeed, her party of choice, the left-wing revolutionaries of Magic for Progress, are a minority in the Wizengamot. Their numbers are currently too low, both at the legislative and popular levels, to elect Mrs. Malfoy on their own. Given her track record of putting forward such progressive policies, it is curious as to how she aims to gather support across other sides of the Wizengamot circle.
The Minister-Wannabe was seen courting wizards of the like of Magnus Greengrass, whose daughter was once promised to Draco Malfoy before Lord Malfoy proposed to Miss Granger in 1999, a year after their out-of-wedlock son Scorpius had been born. A source within the Magic for Progress party tells me “(…) this damages her campaign, being seen coddling Purebloods. She has a reputation for being cold-blooded in politics, and her attending events with these warlords does nothing to paint a better picture of her”.
It is no wonder that Mrs. Malfoy is eager to use her family’s connections to advance her political ambition as the polls for the Minister’s race currently have both candidates, Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. Cormac McLaggen, tied. While Mrs. Malfoy shows strong support from her own Magic for Progress party, Mr. Cormac McLaggen is said to be more popular amongst the three other factions, including the Party of Hereditary Seats and Magic for Might. The last faction, the Unaffiliated, often prompt to lean on one or the other side of the circle based on the general popularity of the measures presented, currently favors Mr. McLaggen by three points.
More on the gala and its attendees on page six.
Rita Skeeter for Witch Weekly
“Someone in the crowd was obviously in dire need of money and sold a tip to Skeeter. The pictures we sent to the Prophet’s have been sold and reused. I will make sure this does not happen again.”, his mother says once he is clearly done reading.
Draco’s shoulders sag and his mother’s glare immediately reminds him to straighten up. A Malfoy never slouches. Yet, Draco is feeling quite beat by the garbage they keep reading about Hermione and their family in the press these days. It is worse than when they announced their elopement or the birth of Sirius.
“What can we do?”, he wonders aloud.
“Your sons asked the same question this very morning.”, she replies and hands him a letter she clearly just received. “They both want to help with her campaign.”
Draco’s eyes swiftly read the letter but immediately he shakes his head. “Hermione does not want them involved. None of the children should. They are being exposed to enough vitriol as it is.”
Dearest Grandmamma,
I most certainly do not need to explain why I am writing this morning. While I do hope you are well, I think it is time you convince Mother and Father to let me participate in her campaign.
This week’s issue was again full of nonsense and paints her as an avid social climber and cold person. I have no outlet other than Hogwarts’ ridiculous gazette to express my support and paint a different picture of Mum, but I do hope you will find me one.
Similar to popular muggle newspapers, I would like to write what they call an op-ed, which usually represents a writer's strong and focused opinion on an issue and directed to a target audience. I think many would benefit from knowing Mum as something other than the war-hero progressive who currently runs the Wizengamot. Sirius and Iris could co-sign. (Scribbled note next to this sentence: I will co-sign the hell out of this op-ed. Love, Sirius)
Please, write back as soon as you can. I know you have contacts at the Prophet’s.
With all my love,
Scorpius.
Draco feels his chest tighten up at the signature. With all my love . His son never signs his letters to him in that way. It is always just Scorpius. Years later, Draco still pays the price of his mistakes.
“Can you get him this op-ed?”, he asks. Draco would have to make sure it was run by him before being published. He does not doubt his eldest has a gift at creative writing, but his mother’s campaign is too important to let anything slip.
“I have a plan. Now, let’s eat”, is all she says.
Narcissa Malfoy never lets her enemy guess her plans, and she rarely shares them.
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On Fridays, Hermione and Draco appear in Narcissa’s parlor. It is a tradition they have set up now that Iris is at Hogwarts. Every Friday, Narcissa and Iris used to have dinners together, something they both looked forward to — especially Iris after both of her brothers had left home for school and she wasn’t old enough to accompany them.
Narcissa had lamented about the loss of company on Fridays and Hermione had volunteered to have dinner with her mother-in-law. Draco had only been too happy to join the two women, finding the conversation frankly quite stimulating.
He knew tonight would all be about Hermione’s campaign. They rarely talk about anything else these days, apart from the small bits of stories they can share from their children at Hogwarts. More often than not, his mother is already aware of the stories as they all regularly write to her.
Draco is proud that all three of his children have a strong bond with their grandmother. He is delighted to see her happy, at peace and doing what she does best — nurture the people around her. In front of him is the mother he had known as a child, not the one she was forced to become in the midst of the war.
Except tonight she isn’t alone. Snake .
Before they can ask who is joining them for their usual supper, a tall and elegant blonde appears in the parlor behind them. She dusts her robes and immediately straightens up.
“Penelope?” Hermione does nothing to hide her shock. Of all people, she is certainly the last person she’d expect to have dinner with at her mother-in-law’s house.
“In the flesh,” her teeth are extremely straight and white, as if she has had them redone entirely. Her bright smile holds as she approaches them with her extended hand.
“Penelope Clearwater, former Ravenclaw,” she says as she shakes Draco’s hand. The round of introduction is swiftly concluded and she moves gracefully toward Narcissa. “Mrs Malfoy, shall we?”
Her posture and voice means nothing but business . Draco knows they have fallen into one of his mother’s deathly traps. And that Hermione is likely going to blame him for it.
“Narcissa, what is the meaning of this?” Hermione never is one to let the battle play itself, she always dives head first in the melee. His mother is always keen to match her opponent, which is one of the reasons why both women like each other despite being worlds apart for so long.
“Penelope is your new Campaign Director. Fire Ralph, he is useless.” Before Hermione can protest, Narcissa continues her explanation. “Penelope has been living in the United States for a while and has recently settled back in Britain. She was formerly Chief of Staff to the President of the Magical Congress. She knows a thing or two about running a campaign and has reached out to me about a position at the Malfoy Trust. However, I firmly believe her skill set would be best used in your campaign for Minister. Her public relations skills, particularly.”
Narcissa does not mean this last bit as an insult, but Draco can feel the sting on Hermione’s pride. His wife is absolutely perfect at everything, but her fiery demeanor often meddles with her public relations skills. Her passionate character has burned many bridges in the past decade. Draco lays a hand on his wife's shoulder, reminding her that he is there and will always support her. His mother is his mother, but Hermione is his wife.
However, and most surprisingly, Hermione nods and encourages her mother-in-law to continue. A clear sign that Hermione trusts Narcissa, despite her reservations. Draco also takes it as a sign that his wife is finally accepting that her campaign needs help beyond that of the Progressive’s. He almost lets out a sigh of relief that this battle finally seems won.
Narcissa leads them to the sitting room instead of the formal dining room where they usually dine. “I absolutely loathe talking business while trying to eat supper. Let’s conclude this arrangement and Pevensy will serve dinner in thirty minutes.”
Draco pales at this — it is as if his father has been resurrected and has taken hold of his mother’s body. It is exactly something the previous Lord of House Malfoy would have said.
Once settled, Narcissa nods to Penelope, letting her know she is free to start the negotiations on her masterplan. She knows Hermione is likely to reject half of the proposals, but all have to be heard tonight.
“First, you need a dedicated, full-time paid team,” and as Hermione is about to protest, Penelope holds a hand as if to silence her, and continues, “Hermione, you are currently working to pass breakthrough legislation on Merpeople rights, all the while conducting a Minister for Magic campaign, and suffering blows left and right in the press. You need a staff that can take care of the day-to-day — strategy, communications, legislation, fund-raising, and everything else. You cannot rely on the team of interns the Magic for Progress is allocating you. You need full-time, dedicated personnel that aren't tied to the party. You need people that represent Hermione Granger, not Magic for Progress. You need to appeal to others — people who do not agree with Magic for Progress but could agree with you .”
Hermione laces her fingers together, clearly nervous, but nods for Penelope to continue. It is clear she is listening — and thinking.
“I have put together a list for your review. These are the people I suggest you hire for your campaign. With the funds from your last private fundraise, you could cover their salaries, and we can work together to fundraise more to cover the rest. You need a full-time paid team ASAP.” Does Penelope hear how American she sounds? With this, Draco lets a slither of doubt creep in. Is she the right person for this job?
Penelope hands the list to Hermione, and after a brief look at it, she asks “Why would I want Cho Chang on my team? She is a retired Quidditch star, not a politician.”
“Cho’s stardom comes with a wealth of new network opportunities for you and extends far beyond the Quidditch world. She is well spoken and even better connected. She is driven and ambitious — in my opinion, exactly the best person to lead your fundraising efforts.” It sounds like Penelope has prepared an answer to every question Hermione might have tonight. “Please review the list tomorrow, once you have digested this conversation and have a clear head on how to move forward. You will find several interesting names on the list, and I have prepared an appendix to explain why and how each of these names is best suited for their proposed position.”
Draco knows Penelope has secured her job the moment she says “ appendix” . Hermione would appreciate someone who is organized and knowledgeable, someone who would be able to carefully explain why something was right or wrong. She would probably enjoy the extra bedside table reading too, if he is honest with himself.
“Alright. Please, continue.” Hermione is now fully cooperating, and he can see the beginning of a smirk on his mother’s lips. Devilishly brilliant, his mother is.
“We need to start curating an Hermione Granger agenda, not a Magic for Progress agenda. Yes, you belong to their faction in the Wizengamot, but you are your own person. As Chief Warlock, and as Minister for Magic, you have your own agenda to promote. The strategists at Magic for Progress are often too keen to cut corners in order to collect the most votes. Your agenda needs to be ambitious, and it needs to reflect your own policy ambitions.”
At that, Hermione offers a little sigh. “The last time I tried to push forward my own agenda, I hurt myself against a wall. It is better to play as a team, even when I disagree.”
“When was the last time you are referring to? », Penelope asks. She knew. Draco can see it in her eyes, she already knows exactly what Hermione refers to. Penelope has done her due diligence on Hermione’s political career. “Two years ago, when we passed the Werewolf Rights legislation. And before that, it took me another two years to get anyone on board with it.”
“Seats have rotated since then. You have two more hereditary seats that are likely to ally with you on some issues, especially if you can offer to lower taxes on importing currently restricted potions. For instance, the Rosier seat has recently gone to Alma Rosier, who is particularly keen on acquiring dragon taming potions for her illegally bred dragon in her home estate of Wales.”
Draco can see the wheels running behind Penelope’s brilliant mind. She is a political strategist. Better than he has been recently, at least. Yet, she will soon find out that Hermione’s ethics are not one thing she is willing to move on.
“Before you tell me this is unethical and that you will not sacrifice your ethics for the sake of this election, allow me to tell you that I admire you . I have always admired your sense of duty, especially after the war. Nobody deserved for you to take on such a difficult role — as an assistant for Hestia post-war, and even more when you were sat behind this ridiculous Ministry desk to tame you down. However, you will lose this election if you are unable to forge alliances beyond your own faction. None of us want to see McLaggen at the top spot, but he currently has the votes. Misogyny and all that.”
“I will think about it.” is all Hermione says but it is more than what Draco could have hoped for. He sees the satisfied look in his mother’s eyes and immediately feels giddy. This , this right now is about to put them on a path to win the election for Minister for Magic.
“Now, onto my last two topics for tonight. You need to support a candidate for your current seat. Show that you are confident you will win the race. Put yourself behind someone for the Chief Warlock position, preferably someone who is likely to support part if not all of your agenda. Percy Weasley is one of those candidates.”
“That’s unprecedented. An outgoing Chief Warlock never endorses his successor.”
“What is more unprecedented is that you are the first muggleborn to hold this position. You are changing the rules of the game already, why not change one more?”
“What is your last request? I think we are all hungry.” Draco can feel Hermione’s frustration in those words. Those are a lot of changes to her modus operandi.
“We need to make you likable.” At that, Hermione scoffs aloud. “Good luck with that,” she says.
Penelope straightens even further in her chair. “Actually, I don’t think it is this difficult. You have a brilliant mind, a huge heart and a successful career already. People see you as cold and calculating because you are a woman and a politician at that.” Again Hermione interrupts, “You forget that I stole my husband’s hereditary seat and that makes me a thief and a coward according to some of my colleagues.”
Penelope shakes her head. “I don’t think you understand me, Hermione. When I say we need to make you likable, I mean we need to make you approachable . Right now, people see you as someone who is more intelligent, more accomplished and more compassionate than them. They see you married a former Death Eater and are willing to pardon some of them. They see you change the law when you deem it unjust. They see you as higher-than-thou. We need to show them the real Hermione — the mother, the wife, the friend.”
“Absolutely not. We leave our children out of this. Always .”, the tension in the room has risen a degree, and Hermione is openly furious at this demand. Draco is about to step in, but his mother beats him to it.
“Hermione, my dear,” starts Narcissa. “Scorpius wrote to me begging to help. Your son will be seventeen this year and soon out of Hogwarts. He wants to see you win this election. He wants to show everyone the mother he knows, not the one they are painting in the press. Sirius also wants to help. I have no doubt Iris would do too.”
“No. Not our children.” Hermione shakes her head again and starts to stand. Draco knows the role his mother and Penelope expect him to play right now. He grabs her hand, and whispers, “Think on it, Hermione.”
Suddenly, Hermione turns to Penelope again and asks “Who is paying you?”.
Penelope’s bright green eyes go from Narcissa to Draco, this is the one thing she has not prepared for for this encounter.
Draco interlaces their fingers and applies a small amount of pressure on the hand he holds. “I am. You need a real team. I can’t be your sole strategist. You — we need Penelope. Think about it, Hermione.”
Without another word, Hermione rises and passes the threshold between the sitting room and the formal dining room and sits herself at the table, clearly indicating this conversation is over. However, Draco knows half of the battle is already won.
As he walks next to Penelope into the other room, he whispers, “Now find me some dirt on McLaggen.” to which she answers with a subtle nod of approval.
Finally, he carefully watches his mother’s face. Her smirk has not fallen off her face, and her captivating blue eyes shine with a light he hasn’t seen in some time — mischievousness? No, Draco remembers this light. Power .
He remembers his mother’s old motto: now we weave .
The Malfoys are back in the game.
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The pleasantries are over before they can even start at Narcissa and Hermione’s following tea time. “Do you have anything to do with the fact that Daphne Greengrass is now in charge of the political columns at the Daily Prophets?”
Narcissa nods as she lifts her saucer and cup to her lips. “Penelope thought she was a good fit. I just pulled some strings with the Editor. He is a long time friend.”
Hermione sighs. “You have to stop, Narcissa. We have to do this the right way.”
“Your ethics will be the end of your political career, Hermione. They will not let you win the game fair and square. They will never let you become Minister of Magic. If you want the office, you will have to play outside of the rules – make your own.”
Hermione shakes her head, “I can’t –” but Narcissa’s hand grabs hers delicately. Narcissa, the woman who, over the past two decades, has been filling the gaping motherly hole in Hermione’s chest. The one who has looked after her children while Hermione has pursued her political career and Draco has erected the family’s business. “You can and you will, Hermione. You deserve this, but they will never give it to you if they can help it.”
“What they have said about me this week,” Hermione starts, a lump in her throat. The allegations that have been published this week have been so severe she has had to send her solicitor to threaten the papers. The battle for Minister for Magic rages on.
“They will not cease until we show them the truth, my dear. You are a wonderful mother, Hermione. Let your children show the world this beautiful side of you.”
“Draco and I, we agreed we would never involve any of them in this.” She sighs, and Narcissa can feel the weight of the world on her daughter-in-law’s shoulders once again, except this time she is not a young and naive seventeen year-old but a battle hardened politician. “We have to protect them.”
“Sometimes, the best way to protect your children is to allow them to have a voice of their own.”
The silence that befalls the room leaves Narcissa’s words hanging in the air, in between the both of them. Mistakes of the past always speak the loudest.
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Absent Mother aims to run the Country the way she runs Her House - delegating
Hermione Malfoy (née Granger) is weeks away from the election for Minister for Magic. In the past two months, her campaign team has fired half of its original staff and replaced it with seasoned professionals. Are the polls so accurate that they have all the alarm bells in Malfoy House ringing?
The question is: who is running Mrs. Malfoy’s campaign?
Is it Mrs. Malfoy herself, who is drowning under three large pieces of legislation that are in gridlock in the Wizengamot, and who is rumoured to be ignoring her children’s owls and sipping on Pepper Up potions everyday?
Is it her husband, former Death Eater and now renowned Potioneer Draco Malfoy? The Malfoy Potions and Apothecary business is booming, particularly with the new draught Mr. Malfoy has engineered for werewolves, leaving the owner anything but too busy to drive a political campaign.
Is it Mrs. Malfoy Senior, Narcissa Malfoy, who has but raised Hermione’s three children while the Chief Warlock has climbed the ranks of the Wizengamot over the past decade? One could assume that Mrs. Malfoy’s schedule has cleared now that all three children are at Hogwarts, however the Malfoy Matriarch seems to be kept busy by the various charity endeavors she is spearheading and which are greatly contributing to the reputation of the Malfoy’s name. Indeed, Mrs. Malfoy’s favorite charity, the Malfoy Trust, keeps her busy with various projects, including awarding grants and scholarships to muggleborn children at Hogwarts for “insertion purposes” and “outstanding academic accomplishments” or whatever it means. The Malfoy Trust is also the largest financial contributor to Hermione Malfoy’s political campaign.
One could easily assume this campaign is largely a family affair, except Hermione Malfoy’s staff is now twice the size of her opponent’s. The official head of the beast? Penelope Clearwater, political strategist and former mastermind of the Magical Congress. At her beck and call, an army of young staffers, divided in multiple branches, each overseen by yet another big name brand: Cho Chang, Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan (the list is too long for this author’s words limit).
Of these facts, one can only make the legitimate conclusion that Hermione Malfoy is not at the helm of her own campaign, and one can easily imagine that she intends to run the Ministry of Magic the way she runs her own House and campaign – by delegating instead of doing.
More on the fight for the Ministry of Magic on page 12.
Parvati Patil for Witch Weekly
Hermione slams the magazine shut and sighs so loud that Draco’s head immediately flashes through the door of their ensuite bathroom, an arched eyebrow as he applies his nightly face cream. She throws the magazine like a rag and he only says, “I see” as if he has read the article before.
Of course he has. Draco dissects every article about the political campaign, all day every day. He knows exactly what every outlet is saying about his wife. He wants to incinerate the papers every time their children are even remotely mentioned. He has done it, once or twice, or maybe twenty.
“Why would she write this about me?” Her voice is shrieky and Draco isn’t sure if she is furious or heartbroken. Perhaps both.
“Patil was never your friend to begin with. She probably feels the need to make a name for herself now that her twin is a renowned healer and she is nothing but a gossip rag.”
“Draco, am I a bad mother?” Her question is almost a whisper, but he is on her in an instant. He grabs her hand and lifts her chin, the storm in eyes bearing into the faltering fire of hers.
“Never, ever think this. Our children love you.” His voice is firm, and he hopes she can feel the conviction he pours into them.
“But your Mother has, in fact, raised all of them. Everyone knows it.” His heart genuinely breaks as he sees the wetness gather at the side of her eyes. He knows the doubts in her heart, the regrets for the time she has missed.
“Mother, bless her, has been nothing but the most loving governess our children could ever have. She has taught them what neither of us could have – history, alchemy, music, dancing, algebra, etiquette and all of the subjects a governess would teach a child before they leave for Hogwarts. But you, Hermione, have taught them everything else. Patience, kindness, loyalty, honesty. You’ve shown Scorpius that it is wonderful to be studious and curious. You’ve taught Sirius that he is allowed to be bold and courageous and opinionated. You’ve been a role model to Iris – showing her that she can be a woman, a mother, a wife, a politician and a dedicated activist. You’ve demonstrated to all three of them that you can be all-encompassing, and that the sky is the limit. Those are things my mother could never teach them.”
His forehead presses against hers, in a delicate and intimate gesture that he hopes will soothe her worries. Over the past sixteen years, they have made many mistakes as parents and spouses, but none that he can think deserve to shake her core the way the libel she is the target of should be doing right now.
If one of them is to blame, then Draco knows it is him. He is the one who has, for close to a year, delayed recognizing his own heir, too ashamed to force him to bear a name as significant as his own. And after they had built their family from the ground up, he had been the one to almost abandon them for his work and his desire for greatness. He had been the one to dig the trenches in their marriage, and it had taken him a long time to realize he was on the brink of losing his family, the one thing he was working so hard to atone for.
Draco had never felt he deserved any of the second chances life had awarded him. Not Hermione, of all things, never Hermione. She’d always been too pure for his damaged soul. He did not deserve his first born son either, the one who had pardoned him for all his failings as a young father. Nor his second son who idolized him as much as he loved to antagonize him. Nor his daughter who put him so high on a pedestal Draco thought he could reach the sky. Nor his mother who had worked so hard to restore the family’s public image. Nor his business, that thrived largely due to the influx of patients who needed long-term care post war.
“Let them show the world who you truly are, Hermione. Let Scorpius and Sirius speak.”
“I can’t –”, her voice breaks.
“Let them. Scorpius is begging you to. Please.”
He feels the fight leave her before she even relaxes in his arms. He lays down next to her and holds her tight, in the comfort and safety of their bed. He whispers a spell and the lights go dark. And as he listens to her breath slow down, he thinks another battle won .
Now, only one last strike.
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“This way please, Miss Greengrass.”
Daphne Greengrass has never been to the Malfoys’ new home. As a child, she has danced in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. Now, the parlor she sits in is nothing like she has ever seen. Narcissa Malfoy’s home is nothing short of splendid, it is bright and warm and welcoming.
“Daphne, lovely to see you again.” Narcissa gives her a warm smile, which Daphne thinks she has never seen before. The Lady of the Manor had always been polite, but she had always seemed cold and calculating.
Penelope shows her a seat and Daphne opens up her notebook immediately.
“Hermione is unfortunately held up at the Wizengamot for a special session. We will have to do without her today, but you will be given access to the family for the next three days.”
Daphne nods politely. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. After her divorce, she thought she’d never get to make a name for herself. This, right here, is how she will. Covering the next Minister for Magic, in the most intimate way possible.
“The children are set to Floo in in the next few minutes. You will be given an exclusive interview with Scorpius and Sirius. Hermione and Draco have both agreed that Iris is too young to be exposed. If the young lady reaches out to you, and I am sure she will, please refrain from engaging.” Narcissa’s voice has the edge of seriousness that Daphne remembers, something solemn and directing. “You will be given a room, and they will all stay here for the weekend. I thought it a little too intrusive to have them host you in the privacy of their home, and they are all used to staying with me regularly, so this will have to do.”
“Has –” Daphne starts but she is interrupted by Penelope this time. “Both Draco and Hermione have agreed to give you an interview on Sunday, and you will get to have dinner with all of them tonight and tomorrow. You are free to come and go as you please, as long as you do not interrupt whatever they are doing outside of the scheduled interviews. The idea is to be a fly on the wall, to witness interactions happen organically. Narcissa will see you at ten in the morning tomorrow for her interview. Harry Potter has agreed to write the op-ed, and Ron Weasley will co-sign.” Penelope goes through her list and Daphne has to hurry to write down all of her notes.
“What is the final product going to look like? Archibald said he liked our ideas but that he would have to adapt some of them,” Narcissa asks.
Daphne turns the pages of her notebook, where she has laid out her plan for this special edition. She has at least half a dozen pages of ideas, but has collected all of them in a short executive summary.
“This is a twelve-page special edition that will be printed next Sunday. We will cover everything – from the war-hero to the mother and the politician. We want a full view of Hermione and her different personalities. We are running our own polling with a few questions as to how our readers perceive her and what they think she should be focused on in terms of policy. We have already interviewed Ernie to discuss policy in detail. We have interviewed a few of her colleagues at the Wizengamot, as well as staffers from the Magic for Progress movement. We want a balanced issue that paints the truth but does not shy away from the facts.”
“Good – this is all we ask for. Fair representation,” says Penelope. Yet, Daphne hears a but coming somewhere.
“I do want to read the edition before it comes out, and Hermione should be allowed to make a comment that will be published if she feels she is being treated unfairly.”
“Of course,” Daphne knows it is the rules of the game, at least for the papers that have some journalistic integrity. “I feel I must share that we have extended the same invitation to McLaggen’s team.”
At this, she feels Narcissa tense but her words never let her guess anything else. “Naturally.”
“When is his edition coming out?” Penelope asks.
“The following Sunday.” A moment of silence, but finally she answers, “That won’t do. It will create recency bias, two weeks before the election. Call Archibald and tell him you must print both at the same time.”
“But – no one is going to read a 24-page special political edition!” Daphne almost loses her cool, but remembers she is in the presence of Narcissa Malfoy, and the years of etiquette engrained in her come back naturally.
“You could make his shorter,” Narcissa suggests as if she were offering to add another half spoon of sugar to Daphne’s tea. Daphne shakes her head, desperate to get out of this trap they are laying in front of her.
“I will ask his team if I can do his interviews next week, and maybe we can publish both special editions separately on the same Sunday.”
“People will pick up the one they are the most interested in, great.” With that, Penelope stands up and Narcissa calls her elf. “Pevensy will show you to your rooms. Dinner is at six. Casual will do.”
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Daphne hears their laughter before she reaches the dining room. She thinks for a moment that she has never heard a dinner being so loud, especially not in her own estate. Her mother had always insisted on listening to their father speak about his work, never about the girls’ day.
She brushes imperceptible dust on her robes before she opens the door. Immediately, two young men get up from their seats and bow to her. Hermione chuckles on the right side of the table, her daughter sits next to her, her mother-in-law on the other side of her at the helm of the large mahogany table.
“Excellent manners my darlings. Now, please sit,” Narcissa instructs and Daphne takes the last seat open, next to Draco and Hermione’s daughter.
Daphne takes a minute to look around, even though she knows it is impolite. The moment is fascinating to her – the Malfoys have been known for their desire for privacy in the past decade. Yet, here she sits at their dinner table, with their children and their matriarch.
The two boys in front of her are handsome young men – the oldest, Scorpius, is a miniature version of young Draco. Tall, long limbs, pointy chin, delicate platinum hair and a storm of dark grey eyes. The spare, Sirius, looks like a copy of Hermione except for the signature Malfoy eyes. His hair almost drops down to his shoulders, with wild brown curls. His nose is all Draco’s but it is paired with Hermione’s freckles and full mouth. He winks at her and Daphne immediately feels mortified that she has been caught looking at a fifteen year old.
She then dares to look at Narcissa, who gives her an imperceptible smile before the matriarch calls for dinner to be served. A small gasp to her right distracts her, and the young girl looks delighted with what appears on the table. Iris, the last of the Malfoy children, looks like a mix of her parents, despite clearly favoring Draco’s features. She has the pointy nose and the eyes, though hers look more like Narcissa’s blue than they do Draco’s grey. She has the distinct platinum hair of the Malfoys, but where theirs is flat, hers is delicately wavy. Daphne suspects that her hair has been tamed by a few potions and spells, like most girls use these days. A few freckles adorn her cheeks, but they are more sparse than her older brother, though her mouth is as full as his. Daphne can’t say for sure, but the young girl looks average height, but clearly athletic.
“So you’re the journalist,” the middle child interrupts her scrutiny and Narcissa tuts her lips, “Sirius –” but the child interrupts again, “I thought you said this charade had to be organic , Grandmamma? I am merely making conversation with our guest.”
Daphne is surprised at the tone of voice the young man uses with his grandmother but remembers the rumors of him being a boisterous child. She politely inclines her head and says, “Yes, I am. Daphne Greengrass, delighted to meet you.”
“Greengrass as in, formerly Pucey?” he asks.
“Sirius!” This time, it is his brother’s turn to be appalled. The heir slams his elbow in his younger brother’s side and says, “Pardon my brother’s lack of manners Miss Greengrass, someone forgot to attend etiquette classes lately.”
“Sirius, please mind your indiscretions. Miss Greengrass is here to interview us, not the other way around,” His mother reminds him. “Now, Iris, you were saying you are going to be signing up for the upcoming Quidditch try-outs?” She cleverly changes the topic of conversation and Daphne immediately relaxes as the young girl starts to explain everything she has been training to get ready, all under the loving eye of her father and amidst the interruptions of her older brother.
The dinner stretches on for an hour and a half before the children are sent to bed and the adults retreat to the sitting room. Daphne excuses herself to her rooms, eager to start drafting some notes.
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The next morning, as Daphne is about to join Narcissa Malfoy in the sun room for her interview, she is interrupted by a loud duo of young men. The older one throws her a polite smile but the younger one positively beams at her.
“Miss Greengrass, I hope you had an excellent night of sleep!”
Sirius is drenched in sweat, his hair is a mess but his eyes are sparkling with delight. Scorpius shakes his head before he says, “Excuse my brother’s accoutrement Miss Greengrass, he was playing tennis with our mother. We must both be going, Father awaits us in his study.”
Before they pass her, Daphne curiously asks, “Tennis? What is it?”
The younger man winks at her with a charming smile before he says, “I will tell you all about it this afternoon.” They are both gone before she can ask more, puzzled by the stark contrast in their attitude.
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“Mrs. Malfoy,” Daphne sits down on the plush chair across from Narcissa, surrounded by a great dozen orchids in full bloom. The sun room is bathed in morning sunlight, the rays reflecting on half a dozen small, well placed mirrors. Narcissa is sipping on her tea, the latest issue of Witch Weekly resting on her knees.
“Narcissa, if you please. And Daphne, if you do not mind me.”
Daphne nods, draws out her quick-quill and opens her notebook to the list of questions she has prepared. She admits though, “This is by far the most difficult interview for me. I haven’t had a chance to speak to the children, nor Hermione or Draco. I have little to start with, and I have been pondering all night on an angle.”
“Let’s forget about the angle for now, shall we?” Narcissa offers graciously. “How about we treat this as a conversation more than an interview? If we were having tea, and simply having tea, what would you like to know?”
“I would ask you about the Foundation. How have you come to set it up, what are your next endeavors with the Malfoy Trust, what has brought this new found passion?” Daphne asks genuinely.
Narcissa makes the magazine disappear from her lap and sets down her saucer. “Then, I would inevitably tell you about Hermione and how, learning more about the Muggle word for the sake of my grandchildren, I have come to understand that muggleborn children are at a great disadvantage when they enter our world. Shall we converse?”
The Lady of the House has always known how to make her guests comfortable, now Daphne slightly relaxes in the chair and closes her notebook and with it her list of questions. A conversation it is.
“How, exactly, do you think muggleborn children are at a disadvantage and how is your organization remediating it?”
The silence hangs between the two women for an instant as Narcissa considers her answer carefully. “Muggleborn children enter our world with no previous knowledge of magic, of our rules and our traditions. They are sent into a curious world, at a young age, with parents that are rendered clueless about the world. Some of them are quite horrified that we even exist, and at a time critical for the children to bond with their parents, they find themselves on one side of a crevasse, their parents on the other.”
Daphne nods while the quick quill takes notes. She lets Narcissa continue her answer without prompting her for more. This is a conversation after all, and Daphne should be listening.
“When I first launched the Malfoy Trust, my aim was to ease some of these difficulties, and help the children create a bridge on top of the crevasse. One where they could experience and learn about magic, where their parents could come along and try to understand. Naturally, we started with free pre-Hogwarts workshops where both children and parents could come and talk to other muggleborn’s parents and the teachers at Hogwarts. Hermione had mentioned how her parents had been afraid to send her away so young, to a place they knew nothing of. I wanted to make sure that the parents could trust our kind to take care of their children, to teach them how to flourish and grow into respectable wizards and witches.”
“The workshops were not held in Hogwarts up until last year, is that right?” Daphne asks, knowing the answer already but prompting Narcissa to become more politically engaged in her answer.
“No, it was not. The school board was against it as the school is generally closed during the summertime and it would have been an additional expense to open its doors for a week in the summer. That was, of course, until Hermione gathered enough support in the Wizengamot to push for the Muggleborn Integration Act. The workshops are still funded by the Trust, but they are now held at Hogwarts, thus saving some of the costs.”
“The Muggleborn Integration Act also enforces a quota for the amount of muggleborn internship positions to be held at the Ministry. Is that something that the Foundation was pushing for?”
“Absolutely. Receiving a proper magical education is merely the first step in a wizard’s life. Society expects us to work nowadays, but several positions are still heavily guarded against muggleborns. Offering them a chance to prove themselves and to find respectable employment after school is necessary if we want muggleborns to remain in the wizarding world and contribute to our society. One thing that I am particularly passionate about is this – the war has brought on the extinction of very many bloodlines and our numbers were dwindling a decade ago. Providing a path forward, a future of sorts, for the wizards and witches to remain in our world, was the only way to ensure our kind’s survival and prosperity.”
Daphne can feel the sincerity in Narcissa’s words. Wizarding kind has always been something purebloods have cared about, with different ideals, but still. It gives Daphne strength to push forward and to ask the more difficult question, “How much has Hermione influenced the changes in your beliefs?”
She can see for a moment the hesitation in Narcissa’s now rigid posture – should she deny that she has ever had different beliefs? Then, a small smile draws on the matriarch’s lips, as if she has sensed the trap and knows better than to fall into it.
“Greatly. Hermione has contributed to a great many things in our life – she has brought my son joy, gifted me three incredible grandchildren that I have had the chance to dote on since the very first day, and she has expanded my understanding of the world.”
She pauses again, for a brief half minute, “Growing up in one of the most ancient and sacred magical families, my understanding of the world was rather small. My interactions were limited to a strict circle of families that mine would approve of. Friendships with outsiders were greatly discouraged if not outright banned.” Again, another pause, this one more heavy, and the look she gives Daphne tells her more than words ever could.
“Hermione has enriched my life in so many ways – one of them being a better understanding of the muggle world and its customs. Then, my grandchildren have insisted that I learn muggle studies alongside them and participate in their activities and outings in the muggle world. It was quite eye opening – despite their lack of magic, they have come up with technologies to remedy their burden and simplify their lives. Where we have spells, they have inventions. Where we have potions, they have medicine and radiation. Where we have moving photographs, they have moving pictures, hours and hours of them. My grandson, Sirius, is particularly attracted to all sorts of muggle objects and inventions.”
Daphne decides it is better to switch subjects now, she has the material for the matriarch’s portrait already, but a selfish part of her wants to satisfy her own curiosity. “Tell me about your grandchildren – how are they, what do you like about them, what do you wish for them?”
Narcissa sees right through it, “What does this have to do with Hermione?” But Daphne is not defeated when she says, “I thought this was a conversation? If I were not a journalist, and we were simply having tea, I would like to learn about your grandchildren.”
The matriarch gives her a tight smile, “Touché.”
Again, she thinks of her answer before she continues, “All three have very different personalities, as you will likely see for yourself soon. You will not get to chat with Iris, which she is furious about by the way, but I am sure her brothers will tell you about her.”
She rises from her seat and starts checking on her orchids, delicately touching some of the petals and inhaling their sweet scent. “Scorpius Hyperion is a physical copy of my Draco, but is all Hermione inside – serious, studious, curious. A brilliant young man. He is tender and loving and quiet. A devoted grandchild, always asking about me. He has a passion for ancient runes and arithmancy, which makes me think that he might want to pursue a career as an Unspeakable, but he talks very little about his aspirations. He is determined to make us all proud and to honor the family name.”
Narcissa now stands by the window, her hands folded in front of her, her gaze searching for the peace she usually finds in her garden. “Sirius Elio is his own creature, much like his namesake was. My cousin was all fire and bravery and boldness – I see much of him in the young man that Sirius is turning into. He is athletic, passionate and opinionated. Yet, sometimes he reminds me of my other cousin, Regulus. He has ambitions and is charismatic and calculating. He would have made a fine Slytherin if he had not refused to join our house at Hogwarts. He wants to make a name for himself, beyond his patronym.”
“Finally, my very own namesake, Iris Narcissa, is our family’s diamond. She is bright and brilliant. At twelve, she has already decided she will join the family business and take over after Draco. She is particularly fond of Potions, so much that I regularly find her asleep in Draco’s lab during the holidays. She is a Slytherin through and through – she has ambition and is cunning enough to achieve her dreams. Many like to say she is in awe of Draco, but too many brush past the fact that Hermione is her true role model. She has shown her daughter that there can be more to being a witch than many people still expect of us. Iris is my pride and joy.”
Narcissa turns around and faces Daphne once again, “This family has been through so very much, but Hermione has always seen us through. She has navigated troubled waters and steered the ship towards calmer seas despite this election’s waves. Not once has her loyalty and devotion to our family faltered. Her first priority, besides being a politician and working towards the betterment of the wizarding world, has always been and will always be this – the family . When I met Hermione, at nineteen, with a babe in her arms and a crushing world of expectations on her shoulders, I could have never imagined the woman she would turn into. I may be the matriarch, but she has been the foundation.”
Narcissa’s words hang loud in the silence of the sunroom, the scratches of the quick quill on paper the only sound to distract them. Daphne measures the words of the Lady of Manor with newfound understanding for the woman who is now running for Minister for Magic.
The foundation . Daphne wonders how she can twist this in her editorial.
The sudden pop of an elf brings her back to the moment, when the creature announces, “The young masters are ready in the sitting room, waiting for Miss Greengrass.”
Daphne rises from her chair and elegantly bows to Narcissa, “Thank you for your time, Narcissa.”
The blonde acknowledges her with a nod and says, “Use my words wisely.”
Daphne does not know if it is a piece of advice or a threat.