Chapter 19
May 22, 2019
Hermione had seen Mean Girls at least 100 times, yet she couldn’t feel less prepared to be the ‘Cady Heron heading to school after Regina George is hit by a bus’ of the U.S. Capitol.
In the aftermath of her boss’ disastrous TMZ interview, Draco had insisted they walk into work together, terrified that something was going to happen to her despite the copious police presence in the building at all times.
It seemed like overkill to Hermione, especially given that you had to walk through a metal detector and place your bag through a security scan in order to even get inside the building. But Draco was always going to be Draco, the protective worry wart, hidden behind an unfairly handsome face.
Saying no to his pitiful expression was nearly impossible, but she had won the fight, making a compromise that Pansy would walk her inside. Her roommate was overjoyed by the news, sharpening her nails into claws that could only be taken as predatory and threatening that morning.
“Do you need something?” Pansy spat to the gawking middle-aged man who was in the elevator with them. Hermione could only sigh.
“No ma’am,” he stammered back, pulling out both of his phones and pretending he had work emails to check. Oh so typical.
“The gall of people these days, I tell you. There’s a zoo in Woodley Park, why don’t you go and stare at baby pandas instead of an innocent little girl!” Pansy scoffed as they stepped off the elevator.
“I’m not a little girl, Pansy,” Hermione laughed, amused at the way the icy girl thawed out any time she was threatened. It made Hermione feel special, knowing she was one of the only people that Pansy actually cared about.
“You are to me!” Pansy replied. “Now hurry up, I need to get to my desk and deal with the hundreds of emails piling up because of your boss!”
Hermione couldn’t even apologize for that. She didn’t know if James would bring the incident up, and if he did… what would he even say?
I’m sorry for spewing your personal life out to TMZ?
I regret acting like a [dick/idiot/hothead] and blowing up at the slightest provocation?
She’d barely wrapped her head around what had happened… forgiving James and truly meaning it was hardly at the top of her to-do list.
“Damn it,” Pansy groaned quietly as they rounded the corner to Rep. Potter’s office, both of them noticing the cameras and reporters set up outside of the door.
The one reporter who wasn’t glued to their phone scurried over to the duo, her dutiful cameraman following behind. Hermione knew the girl - she was one of her ex-roommate Lavender’s friends who left beer bottles all over their tiny apartment and pretended not to know who she was everytime Lavender had people over.
“Hermione, Padma Patil with WWN. Any comment on Congressman Potter’s remarks? Is it true that you’re in a consensual relationship with Congressman Draco Malfoy?”
Despite her feet feeling like they were filled with lead, Hermione kept walking to her office, praying that the door would already be unlocked so she didn’t have to fumble with her keys. Luck would have it that the door was locked, so Pansy, skinny thing she was, did her best to block Hermione from view while she let herself into the office.
Did she ever say how grateful she was for Pansy?
Once they were in the office, Hermione having the good sense to lock the door behind her, they let out equally relieved sighs.
“That was bullshit,” Pansy fumed, running a hand through her perfectly styled hair. “Is there nothing better to focus on?”
“No,” Hermione shook her head, stomach sinking. “Everyone loves drama, Pans, and everyone loves the bloodbath of a presidential primary even more.”
“No one’s even running against him! Besides, Lucius is the candidate, not Draco! They aren’t the damn royal family, there shouldn’t be THIS much attention on them.”
“They are, it’s just no one important,” Hermione reminded her. There were two candidates who’d announced their campaigns, a former baseball star who came out of the woodwork and the one-term governor of Missouri. Neither candidate was anywhere near a threat, but it wouldn’t do to forget they existed. Crazier things had happened than a long-shot candidate beating out the frontrunner.
“Who gives a shit! You’re not safe in your own office, clearly, and you need to think about what you’re going to do.”
This was not a conversation Hermione was willing to have again, not so soon after last night’s blow up.
“I’m fine,” Hermione replied, swallowing down her paranoid question of whether or not she was colluding with Draco. “This is one of the safest buildings in the world, Pans. everything is fine.”
The door jingled a moment before a harried-looking Colin and Penelope walked in together.
“What is going on?” Colin asked, innocent eyes blown wide.
“Just start your work, Colin,” Penelope sighed like a bereaved older sister. Not that she could be blamed; Colin felt a bit like the younger brother their team had never had. He meant well, but needed constant direction and praise.
“Yes ma’am!” he replied, not shaken at all by the slight chastisement. “How are you, Miss Parkinson?”
Pansy smirked at that; she’d told the boy to call her Miss Parkinson when he asked for her name, and had never blinked twice. The boy was dutiful, if anything. Or maybe he just had better senses than she knew and was well aware that Pansy would eat him alive at the slightest provocation.
“Living the dream, little Colin. Now you be good and protect Hermione with your life, you hear?”
“Pansy.” Hermione couldn’t deal with her sometimes.
“Of course!” Colin agreed easily.
It wasn’t hard to get angry with Pansy, but it was hard to stay mad when she threw Hermione a wink and hugged her tightly in a rare show of affection.
She left without a word, which to Hermione was synonymous with ‘I’m going to tell Draco everything that happened the moment he steps foot in the office.’
And that thought made her feel even worse; would other members of the press be stationed outside of his door?
Probably, since he was the actual public figure in their relationship.
The day went on rather uneventfully after that, and she was touched when Remus sent an email saying that she could use James’ private restroom instead of venturing out into the wild west of the halls of Congress. She took him up on it, unconcerned with burdening others for the first time in her life.
James was also conspicuously absent, but Hermione knew he’d show up for his annual meeting with a troop of Girl Scouts from Seattle. No one, not even an embarrassed old man, would stand up the Girl Scouts.
And she was right - James slunk into the office ten minutes before his meeting was set to start without making eye contact with anyone. He always lost his key to the door of his private office, so the main entryway was the only way for him to get in.
Her Google chat pinged a moment later with a message from Remus, someone who rarely ever chatted with her on the app.
Remus: Come to James’ office, please.
Well, hell. Was she getting an apology? Or getting fired? It was clear at this point that she was slowly heading down a road towards an inevitable parting from her job, something that had her tearing up the night before. She’d remained silent, pulling Draco’s large t-shirt over her eyes so that tears wouldn’t land on his bare arm where it wrapped tightly around her. If she’d known he wouldn’t have woken up, she would’ve sobbed the big, ugly sobs that came out in the most heart wrenching of moments.
She was losing the job she loved for a man, and she couldn’t even truly find a reason to stay. Not when staying meant losing Draco.
But for now, she would be the best employee she could; and she prayed on the walk into James’ office that she had time to prove how committed she was.
The room was tense when she walked in, though she had to admire Remus for staring at James with a stone-face. The man was always a wildcard, loyal to James, but with a streak of morality that was rare to find on the Hill. Maybe she wouldn’t be fired today after all.
The click of the door latching shut was ominous, and James was quiet until she sat down in a chair that she now associated with bad news being delivered.
“How are you?” James asked first, fingers tapping on his desk with either anxiety or restlessness.
“I’m well,” she replied, not really sure what the answer was supposed to be.
The man laughed incredulously. “If you are, then I guess you haven’t seen the news.”
“James,” Remus admonished, whipping his head towards the other man.
“I have seen the news… I’ve also seen the press stationed outside of the office.”
“They’re gone now,” James offered. “I called the Capitol Police.”
She raised an eyebrow. Did he want a reward for cleaning up the mess he made? The audacity of Potter men was alarming.
“Thank you,” she said, though it sounded more like a question than anything else.
“I’m sorry for what I did, Hermione. It was uncalled for, but I was so pissed off. In the moment I thought that maybe, just maybe, they’d leave you alone if I went on a rant. Clearly I was wrong.”
“He was very wrong,” Remus chimed in, tone solemn. “And he put your safety at risk. We’ll continue to monitor office communications and phone calls, but please utilize the Capitol Police’s threat line as necessary.”
She paled. “I don’t think I’m unsafe, sir.”
James let out a chuckle, “The right can vilify you as a baby-murdering liberal who stole their golden boy with your devilish wiles, and the left can call you a spy, hypocrite, and lightweight. No one is more at risk than you right now.”
“So... what?” she asked, swallowing down the hysterical warble that was threatening to pour out of her mouth. “Are you firing me?”
“No, Hermione. Christ... We’re not firing you,” James sighed, the humor leaking out of him with the breath. “I just don’t know how long you can stay here. We’re all at risk with you on the team, including yourself. Selfishly, I’m happy to see how long this ship takes to sink, but it’s up to you.”
The man was candid and uncharacteristically gentle, something that made her feel even guiltier for the words that spilled out of her mouth. She didn’t have to think about it.
“I don’t want to leave,” the exclamation was a meek little thing, more like a plea, and definitely more befitting of a teacup chihuahua than a grown woman.
“Then you won’t leave,” James shrugged. “But you have to be prepared for what’s to come. We all do. I’m not going to lose my seat over this, but the second someone on the team is threatened is when this is over.”
“James…” Remus replied in warning.
“What, Rem?” the man asked, eyes hard. “We’ve talked to House Counsel. Employment here is at-will; the government doesn’t put any regulations on its own employees, so she can quit or be fired at any time.”
“But do you really need to be so candid? This is inappropriate,” he replied.
Hermione had to agree with him; James was crossing a line of propriety. She didn’t need to know his thought process behind all of this; all she needed was to know that she was safe with her job. But now, there was the added layer of James’ feelings and reservations - it made her feel singularly selfish for not quitting then and there.
“It’s fine, Remus. There’s no room for nuance here. Just let us know if you have questions or if shit hits the fan.”
Well.
“Yes sir,” she replied dutifully, holding off from giving the snarky salute that felt deserved.
She was able to zone out and focus on her work for the most part, though there was a stab to her heart every time she heard interns and Colin telling people on the phone that they wouldn’t entertain them if they were going to disparage their colleague. She could only guess what the people on the other end of the line had to say about her.
Draco was radio silent through most of the day, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but with Pansy’s play-by-play updates on how the man had been mobbed on his way into the office, she knew he was likely stewing.
Draco: Votes will end around 5:15. Text me when you’re done with your work and I’ll come get you from your office, sweetheart.
Hermione: I don’t know if that’s the best idea.
Draco: Text me when you’re done with your work and I’ll meet you at your office.
‘Sweetheart’ felt more like a threat than a comfort, but she swallowed down her annoyance with being treated like an invalid. She’d let him have it later, but right now, they just needed to make it through the day. That included Draco not losing his mind on members of the press, which would only happen if she remained calm and genial.
Hermione: Will do
He didn’t deserve an exclamation point; even a 40-year-old man would understand the displeased undertones of that text.
Draco didn’t reply, but she could vividly imagine the annoyed sigh and hand running through his hair at the closest she ever came to being irate with him. As far as couples went, especially one as polar opposite as they were, they barely fought. But now? She knew what their night would consist of, and there was no way she was ready for it.
When the clock struck six, their office’s technical closing time, she swallowed her pride and walked into Remus’ office.
“Hermione,” he greeted, eyes barely flicking off his computer screen.
“I figured it’d make sense if I left first so that any reporters left are gone by the time everyone else heads home,” she said quietly, hating the idea of leaving when she had work to do more than anything.
“I think that makes sense as well. Is Draco coming to walk you out or would you like me to call Cap Police?”
“Draco’s coming, but thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Be safe, Hermione.” Remus smiled tightly before turning back to his computer once more.
Draco opened the door to the office only a few moments later, his jaw tight in a way that showed his day was likely as bad as hers. Only he’d signed up for this; she hadn’t. Not really.
“Ready?” he asked, stepping into her space and then stopping as though he didn’t know if he could touch her. She hated that.
She made the choice for him, taking his hand like it was her only anchor to sanity. There would be time to feel embarrassed for her neediness later, but today… she’d take what she needed. And by the way Draco’s shoulders both relaxed and rolled back at the contact, it was clear that he was just as appeased by her touch.
There were two reporters in the hallway, one without a camera and the other was the exact same TMZ reporter that had cornered James yesterday. She wouldn’t consider herself a violent person, but not punching the man took a world of restraint.
“Hey lovebirds, any comments for TMZ?”
To his credit, Draco’s grip on her hand barely tightened, but he remained silent as they walked towards the elevator that would lead them to his car.
This was an entirely new world for her, and Hermione was uncertain of whether or not the pair would follow them into the elevator. The ding of the doors sounded, and Draco gestured for her to move inside. He used his body to stop ‘Mike from TMZ’ from entering, the female journalist who’d been outside of the door was not there. She was clearly uninterested in stalking them now that it was clear there would be no comment coming from Draco.
“Show some respect, sir,” Draco said tightly, finger tapping the ‘close door’ button repeatedly.
“Just trying to do my job, man!”
Hermione couldn’t see Draco’s face, but knew the exact, haughty expression that had taken over his features.
The congressman didn’t speak as the doors finally clicked shut, and Hermione found the ensuing silence to be only slightly comforting. It was only when they were in his car, pulling out of the Rayburn garage that she felt okay to talk.
“I love you,” she said quietly, only slightly shocked that that was the first thing to come out of her mouth.
An exhausted, crooked grin crept on Draco’s face at that, and he pulled her hand onto his thigh.
“I love you too, sweetheart. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she shrugged, putting everything she really felt into the gesture.
“But are you?”
“No,” she shook her head, voice wobbly.
Draco’s face fell, but he didn’t take his eyes off of the road.
“I wish everything was different, baby.”
“So do I, but it’s not,” she swallowed, trying to get a grip. Draco was suffering just as much as she was, and dragging him down to attend her pity party was the last thing he needed.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, changing the subject so suddenly that she couldn’t do anything but laugh.
Draco just raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for an answer. He was obstinate at the most random of times.
“Wendy’s.”
“Really?”
She felt better already. “Really.”
The only Wendy’s in Washington, DC was stationed at the center of a notoriously busy traffic circle, something that almost ensured daily accidents as people entered and exited the parking lot.
Draco just huffed a breath before driving up to New York Ave, keeping the radio off and allowing for silence to rule them for a bit. It was what Hermione needed, honestly. She was talked at for most of the day, and when she wasn’t, then she had to listen to people talk to each other. In the back office, in the front office, on the phone, in the hallway… It was never ending noise. The conversation-less nights spent reading and watching movies with Draco were some of her favorites; they had nothing to prove to each other. They fit together well, there was no denying that, and that meant there was no front to put on or fill the silence.
Once they were back at his place, Draco tapped a hand on the table in front of her to get her attention.
“Disappointed?”
She had to sigh. The man knew her too well.
“It’s not even that good,” she frowned, touching a soggy fry.
“It never is, sweetheart. I’m not going to say we should’ve gone to McDonald’s, but…”
“We should’ve gone to McDonald’s,” she rolled her head down towards the table.
“Heat it up if you need to, but finish eating please,” Draco instructed, throwing another lukewarm, limp fry into his mouth as if she needed to see how someone ate.
Draco had enough tact not to start a heavy conversation before they were curled up in bed, her stomach already aching after imbibing the fried food. Why was it that fast food always felt like a good idea until it wasn’t?
“It feels like groundhog day,” Draco said into the quiet of the room, fingers running along his white comforter.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized immediately, opening her eyes to see that Draco’s gaze was flickering over her face. “I just don’t know how to stop making every new development feel like a punch to the gut. And… asking me to do that is unfair. I can’t help how I feel.”
“I know you can’t,” he sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’ve never asked you to hide what you feel from me, but I do need to know if you think going on like this is feasible.”
“It has to be, Draco. There’s not really any other option.”
He tapped his fingers rapidly, sinking his pearly white teeth into his plush lower lip.
“Yes?” she asked impatiently, feeling like he was hesitating to tell her something.
“What did James say?” the man deflected.
“That he’s sorry he ran his mouth, but attention coming to him and our office is inevitable. He said that he isn’t going to fire me, but will tell me when enough is enough.”
“What’d you think of his answer?”
“I don’t know… Did I hope he’d say that I could work here as long as I want? Of course, but that’s illogical. I just hoped I could stay for longer than a few months.”
“You’re not going to like it, Hermione, but James is right. The only way to keep you safe is for you to leave.”
“He wasn’t talking about keeping me safe, he was talking about protecting my colleagues from threats.”
“I don’t care about them,” Draco flicked his hand out like he was swatting away a mosquito. “I care about your safety, and that means I need to be honest and say that I hope you’ll consider leaving your job.”
There it was… she knew it would be coming, but didn’t think a man with that level of deviousness running through his blood would just put it out there.
“And do what? Beg on the streets? Strip?” she asked, voice rising.
Draco rolled his eyes, sitting up so that the comforter draped unfairly over his toned body. Nope, she was not going to be distracted by his looks right now, not when there was a moral battle to win.
“As if I’d let you do either of those.”
“That’s the problem,” she slapped a hand on her thigh before pushing herself to sit up. “You can’t just ‘let me do’ things, Draco. I get that you want what’s best for me, but you need to understand that part of that is allowing me to live my own life.”
“So you’re going to work until you’re fired or hurt just to prove a point?”
Hermione teared up at that, sniffling in a breath before replying. Her voice cracked, something she wasn’t proud of, but he needed to understand where she was coming from.
“You don’t understand what having a job means to someone like me, Draco. Quitting now just proves that I can’t handle adversity when they don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through. I’m not going to quit to give you peace of mind. This isn’t about you, Draco… It’s about me.”
“None of those people know you from Eve. Their opinion is worthless. Everyone who knows a lick about you will understand why you leave.”
“Their understanding means nothing when I live paycheck to paycheck, Draco! No one’s going to hire me after this, when it’s clear how much of a liability I am.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he replied, sounding slightly hurt at the insinuation of money troubles.
“Draco,” she repeated sharply. “This isn’t about you. This is about me. You take care of me every day, but I’ve been taking care of myself much, much longer. I can’t just quit my job and assume that everything will come together financially. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”
“So we’ll get married sooner than winter 2020,” he shrugged.
“That’s kind of an awful way to propose, Draco,” she snorted, raising an eyebrow. Their ideal timeline, well… Her ideal timeline was getting married after the election, but she knew that both Draco and his mother wanted it to happen sooner. There was nothing that she was holding out for, but the prospect of a marriage in the middle of the campaign season was almost too much to bear.
Draco’s sheepish smile told her everything she needed to know.
“Did you really think we’d be able to wait that long, anyways?”
“You act like I’ve kept it a secret that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Whenever you want to get married, Hermione… I’m there.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said with a smile at the secret sap in front of her.
“When we get married we’ll merge our finances… What’s mine is yours, baby. Why wait to accept that?”
She jutted her chin forward, “Because we’re not married! I appreciate all you do for me, but this conversation has never been about how well you take care of me. It’s about me wanting to keep my job, my dignity, my independence… I don’t know what will come next. I’m not your mom, Draco.”
Draco moved closer to her, running a tender hand along her cheek.
“I know you aren’t. I’ve never once compared you to her, so don’t put that on me.”
Hermione blushed at that, suitably chastised.
“You can be whatever you want to be. Primary James and serve with me in Congress, use our money to start a charity, become one of those Instagram girls. I don’t care so long as you’re happy and fulfilled.”
“Thank you,” she replied, giving into his gentle tugging and draping herself over his body. “But I’m not quitting.”
“I didn’t expect you to, stubborn girl. Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”
She pressed a kiss to the ridges of his ribs, knowing what he said was true. Sleep did not come easily, not when her mind was full of the likely scenarios of what was to come for her. The most surprising part of it all was that she never once considered leaving Draco; that wasn’t an option. Her independence and dignity were two of the most important things in her life, but she wasn’t willing to give up the man running light fingers through her curls. Not even for a moment.
xxx
June 11, 2019
It was always a bit disarming, how a day could go from joyous to terrible with one tweet. That was the 21st century, though, Hermione thought.
She was enjoying what felt like a normal out-of-session day with her colleagues. Remus and James were back in the district, which meant that the remaining staff came in late, left early, and didn’t have to put on a show of working hard just to look like they were working hard.
For someone who thrived on working tirelessly, it was hard to get used to taking time to relax, but burnout was real. So she showed up to work 20 minutes late, stomach fraught with less panic than it would’ve been months ago.
Being out-of-session also meant that they kept the TV in the back office on all day, usually tuned to Food Network. But at the moment, it was on Fox News while Dolores Umbridge announced her long-shot bid for president. Draco was right when he said she wouldn’t be running for the Democratic-held U.S. Senate seat in Florida, after all.
“I’m a woman, so I don’t feel sexist saying she could’ve put a little more effort into picking an outfit that doesn’t look like a pillow sold on discount at TJ Maxx,” Tonks admitted.
Penelope snorted, but Hermione hid her laugh. The squat woman was wearing a monstrosity of a pink dress with even more pink fur lining the bottom despite the heat of Florida.
She glanced around the room before texting Draco.
Hermione: Are you watching this?
Draco: Finishing up at a ribbon cutting.. What’s going on?
Hermione: Umbridge announcing her run for pres.
Draco: Oh, joy! Glad I have dinner with my parents tonight and hear all about it.
Hermione: Thoughts and prayers xo
She placed her phone down after sending that text, deciding to finish up a spreadsheet of community funding grants she’d been pretending didn’t exist. The guilt of leaving work at five on the dot would dissipate as soon as she got it done, so putting her head down and working seemed like the best option.
Well, it was until she was running final calculations and heard Tonks let out a shriek.
“Oh shit!”
“You can’t yell that without explanation,” Colin shouted from the front office.
“Check ‘Mother Jones,’” she called back.
Hermione switched over to Chrome, quickly typing in Mother Jones. She had to stifle her own curse at the large headline that splashed across the top of the left-leaning outlet’s homepage.
THE TRUE STORY OF THE MALFOY FORTUNE
“Oh God,” she whispered, clenching her fingers against the wood of her desk. “Oh God.”
She didn’t even know this story, yet everyone on the face of the earth would by the time the day was over.
Finding a resolve in herself that was buried very, very deep, she clicked on the headline. The scrollbar of the article was tiny, showing her just how long the piece was. All she could do was skim, not having the heart to read every word that was written.
By decree of King Charles II in March 1663, Marquis Malfoy I was one of eight noble Englishmen granted land in the territory that would eventually become North and South Carolina. The widower father of three boys, he was already a man of wealth due to his discovery and ownership of coal mines back in England. Despite his personal success, he was a second son, unable to inherit money in his native land. Like many wealthy second sons, he made his way to America to carve out a bit of the spacious land and seemingly endless resources for himself.
Malfoy struck gold, literally, in 1685 while surveying the work of slaves at one of the family’s fisheries. By 1700, the Malfoy family owned over half of the slaves in the Carolinas, and with the discovery of a 17-pound gold nugget in shallow waters, the patriarch immediately shifted the work of 1,500 slaves to underground mining and placer mining.. or the mining of streambeds.
Mother Jones has acquired never-before-released documents regarding slaves and low-paid, uneducated workers at the Malfoy Mines spanning from its opening in 1689 to its closure in 1851. These documents were provided by the Historical Society of North Carolina and unnamed sources within various historic societies and business chambers across the United States.
After three months of compiling pertinent information, Mother Jones can report that over 2,000 slaves died while working in the Malfoy Mines. These individuals were not named on any documents ever filed, but given alphanumeric identification codes.
According to the Historical Society of North Carolina, individuals were most likely to die from collapsing of mine stops and dust explosions in underground caverns or drowning while placer mining. Slaves were not taught to swim before being forced to mine in moving waters, some of which were 15-feet deep according to geographical records.
The Malfoy Mines closed prior to the Civil War…
Hermione took a long look at her trash can, unsure of whether or not she could hold her vomit down. Deciding that the janitorial staff deserved better than that, she swallowed her bile down and kept reading.
The details were gruesome and undeniable. Draco’s family had made millions with the blood and bodies of slaves and indentured workers. She tried not to bite through her lip as she worked through the next few paragraphs, feeling guilty at the relief that overcame her once she came to a break in the gory truth of the Malfoy wealth.
Like most savvy southerners, the Malfoy family divested their wealth into up-and-coming industries. The Malfoys were one of the first investors in both furniture-building and banking in North Carolina, which are now two of the state’s top industries. What the Malfoys don’t want you to know is that their furniture was built by slaves and following the war, convict-leasing.
The 13th Amendment, enacted in 1865, stated that “neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” Southern states, like North Carolina, found themselves suffering labor shortages following the abolishment of slavery and created “Black codes,” or laws that imprisoned Black Americans for marginal offenses such as showing disrespect or “malicious mischief...” Minor crimes that were upheld in court by conservative judges.
The State of North Carolina built a state penitentiary in 1870, and for the next 20 years, nearly 70 percent of convicted individuals were forced to labor on the state-funded Western North Carolina Railroad. Records show that private industries bid on the remaining prison laborers, and Malfoy Enterprises had authority over seven percent of North Carolina’s incarcerated individuals from 1871 to 1890.
From 1891 to 1923, Malfoy Enterprises had 13 percent of the state’s prisoners farming and working in furniture factories without profit. The state, however, received 11 percent of the company’s profits in exchange for the provided labor.
The state government took over convict operations in 1933, but the Malfoys were ahead of the curve and had moved to paid labor by the end of 1923. Like most records of convict-leasing in North Carolina, there are few documents detailing the work of Black prisoners forced to labor for free on Malfoy properties. The Historical Society of North Carolina has confirmed that at least 13 prisoners died while working in the first of the family’s three furniture factories due to faulty machinery.
In 1937, Magnus Malfoy II sold the remaining family farms and furniture factories, a move that solely shifted the family into the investing magnate it’s known to be today.
The next few paragraphs went into detail about the Malfoy family’s investments. Hermione, who did not consider herself particularly knowledgeable about the ins and outs of investments or SEC filings, found it somewhat difficult to follow, but the basic gist was that the Malfoy family held large ownership stakes in numerous companies, investing in everything from biotechnology to real estate. Somehow, the article detailed, they’d been one of the few families that’d not felt the impacts of the Great Depression, and that more than anything made clear just how intelligent, ruthless and driven the Malfoys were. Whoever wrote this article didn’t quite know who they were up against.
She smiled grimly as she read on.
“They wouldn’t want anyone to know it, but they practically own North Carolina,” a senior Republican political operative shared.
Beginning with the election of Abraxas Malfoy in 1968, the Malfoys shifted their focus to politics, establishing a dynasty in Congress as the son followed the father to Washington, D.C. As Senate Majority Leader, Lucius Malfoy is not only the leader of the Senate but also its wealthiest member.
Hermione tried not to choke as the article went on to estimate the family’s vast wealth, with the disclaimer that much was still unknown about where the family’s money was invested today, before turning back to the disturbing origins of that wealth.
Unfortunately, much like the dark history of our nation, the full truth of the Malfoy family’s exploitation is not fully known and will never be. The Mother Jones team working on this story turned up a considerable number of documents, but the names of those who perished while building the fortune of one of our nation’s most formidable political families may never be known.
If you are related to any individuals who were slaves or prisoners laboring at a Malfoy property, you can contact Mother Jones at this link.
“This is fucked up,” Dorcas murmured from her desk in the back.
“Did you know?” Tonks asked, and even though she hadn’t moved from her desk, Hermione knew exactly who the woman was talking to.
The room was silent.
“Of course I didn’t know,” she replied, voice shriller than she would’ve hoped for. “Draco has no idea, either.”
Three disbelieving snorts sounded through the back office. That stung.
“Dearest Hermione,” Tonks sighed loudly. “There’s a difference between shielding the truth and not knowing. His family has benefitted from sweeping their skeletons in the closet for hundreds of years, but over 3,000 skeletons were inevitably going to come pouring out at some point.”
Hermione could punch the girl, but instead kicked the back of her desk, the sound thudding through the room. It felt a bit childish, but she was close to either screaming at her colleague or hysterically crying.
“Tonks,” Penelope chided. “That’s like you finding out Hitler is your grandfather on Ancestry.com. You can’t know the extent of your family’s wrongdoing if no one is willing to tell you.”
“Hitler is way too old to be my grandfather,” Tonks replied immediately. “I guess I could be a Malfoy, though.”
Hermione shuddered at the thought. A Malfoy, no. Not with her coloring.
“Are you okay, Hermione?” Penelope asked, scooting her chair into the middle of the office so she could stare at the younger woman. She moved even closer after a look at Hermione’s face, which made it clear that she was doing a shit job of hiding her emotions.
“I just don’t know when it’ll end,” she said quietly, allowing herself a moment of public weakness.
“I don’t think it’s ever going to end,” Penelope’s voice was gentle, but grave. The care in her words had a few traitorous tears running down Hermione’s makeup-free face.
All she could do was nod; she knew. This was life from here on out, and it was only going to get worse with Draco’s father running for President. She took a moment to pity herself before wiping off her tears and squaring her shoulders. There was no time for crying; there was going to be a new flame to fan every few days for here on out. All she could do was brush it off or break up with Draco, and she’d already decided that wasn’t an option. There was quite literally no one in the world who would have enough emotional energy and patience to deal with her panic every time something went wrong. She owed herself and Draco more than that. She was fine. Everything was fine.
“Thanks Pen,” Hermione smiled, teeth and all. She knew she likely looked more like a hyena than a grateful and collected woman, but it was the best she could do. And that’s all she was aiming for at the moment.
“Of course. Let me know if you want to leave early, we’ll cover for you.”
Like hell was she leaving early. She told Penelope that in kinder terms and got back to work.
She ignored the emails that continued to pop up from reporters, and could tell that Colin was doing the same with phone calls requesting comment. Their new summer interns were out of the office at a training, so the brunt of the calls fell on him.
“Okay team, let’s get the hell out of here,” Dorcas called out at 4:15pm.
“Hell yeah, Dorcas!” Tonks replied, the sound of a zipper already echoing through the room. Clearly, everyone was ready to go.
“See you all tomorrow,” Dorcas replied, surprising everyone by being the first person to leave.
“Oh, man!” Colin groaned from the front office. Do I have to wait for the interns?”
“No,” Penelope replied. “Just leave a key under the door and have them run their fingers under the slit to grab it.”
“Sneaky! I like it,” he approved. “I’m out of here!”
Hermione was the last to leave, reluctant to check her phone and face the music when she could pretend to be working for another 45 minutes.
The number of notifications she found on her iPhone screen was actually smaller than she thought, but then again… People couldn’t be expected to check in on her after every little bump in the road.
Pansy, bless her heart, had sent five texts. There were two missed calls from Draco and no texts. It was clear he didn’t want to bother her, something she appreciated.
There were blessedly no reporters in the hallway, just people staring at her as she walked out which was the new normal she faced.
Once she was walking home and ensured no one was near her, she called Draco back. He had events all day, so she jolted a bit when he picked up on the first ring.
“Hermione?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure who was on the other end of the phone.
“Hi. You okay?”
Draco sighed. There he was. “I’m fine. Would be better if that garbage reporter had given us a heads up that they were putting out this report, though.”
“Oh? Do they normally tell you?”
“Yes, they’ll normally ask for a comment. Father and his team had heard nothing from them until they saw the article.”
“That’s fucked,” she murmured, surprising both of them with the expletive.
“Just a bit, sweetheart. Did you read it?”
“I did.”
There was a long pause.
“Did you know?”
“Not fully. Did I know we owned slaves? I did. Not to excuse it, but most wealthy families in the south did prior to the Civil War. Did I know that they were worked to death mining gold for my family? No. It’s horrific and inexcusable, but it wasn’t done with my own hands or my father’s or grandfather’s for that matter.”
Hermione let out a noise, voice wobbling. “It doesn’t matter if you did it, Draco. You’ve benefited from it. The fact that people were freed from slavery only to be taken to prison and forced to work again… That’s awful.”
“What am I supposed to do? We don’t have their names, we can’t find their families…”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely true.”
“Clearly you have something you’d like to suggest.”
“Nothing to suggest,” she replied. “I’m just sick, Draco. What is your father going to do?”
“Oh, something you’ll hate, I’m sure.”
“Draco,” she warned impatiently.
“He’s not going to apologize, sweetheart. An admission of guilt is the last thing that he would ever give, and it’s the last thing that his voters would want.”
“So what? Is he going to get up on a stage and proclaim that slavery was the God-ordained economic engine that got our nation moving? What’s he going to say about enslaving people after the 13th Amendment?”
“No,” Draco sighed. “He’s going to say that it wasn’t him who did this… The Malfoys have invested millions in schools, apprenticeships, after-school activities, recidivism reduction programs… That is what we’ve done as a family, those are the Malfoy actions that we endorse.”
Hermione couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “So throwing money at a problem that YOU created makes it all better?
“You’re using a 2019 standard to judge people from the 1600s.”
“Men from the 1600s,” she corrected. “Women were property back then too. And let’s not pretend it was just the 1600s - the convict leasing stuff apparently went on until the early 1900s.”
“Which was still a hundred years ago. No one can undo the past, Hermione. My relatives may have done some awful shit, but they didn’t invent slavery or invent archaic gender roles.”
“That doesn’t mean that they didn’t grow rich over these systems. They could’ve been like Abraham Lincoln, hell, they could’ve just been like the Quakers and opposed slavery but done nothing to end it. There were choices, and they chose the wrong ones.”
Draco’s annoyance was evident through the phone. “What do you want me to do about it now, sweetheart? My ancestors were heavily investing in other industries and moved away from owning slaves before Reconstruction even began. Our current wealth can’t be tied to gold mining, not when we’ve invested in more current and successful industries.”
“I’m going to pretend I know what any of that means, Draco. So what you’re papering over is that your dad is going to defend this? Despite the fact that the article literally lays out the opposite of what you’re saying? You moved away from slavery, but were okay with convict-leasing?”
“Stop saying ‘you’ like I’m the one at fault here.”
“I mean… if the shoe fits, Draco!”
“I understand that you don’t like this. What would you have me do about it?”
She ran her hand through her curls, almost tripping over a rock that was in the middle of the sidewalk. They were going in circles now, but it felt so damn good to get her emotions out that she couldn’t stop.
“I don’t know. Be a little more concerned about the lives ruined and the fact that it’s very clear your family perpetuated the system your party claims doesn’t exist?”
“You’re being a brat. This isn’t black and white, Hermione… Not at all. And I just laid out exactly what we’ve done to counter the current system. Honestly, I didn’t come into our relationship spilling every bit of my family history because it shouldn’t matter. Am I holding you accountable for the mistakes of your parents’ past? I’m not, and if I did, we’d be in a very different place than we are now. I never asked you to love my family history or our stock portfolio. All I asked is that you love me.”
His mention of her parents was a harsh spike in her heart. Her parents had done bad things, criminal even, but no one had expected her to accept responsibility for their actions. She felt a bit breathless at the barb he’d sent her way, wishing that she had a better reply than tears. But he was right - if she wasn’t responsible for her parents’ actions, then it was even more absurd to assume that her descendants generations from now should be responsible for them. She still wasn’t okay with everything she’d read, but it was possible she was being unfair by taking it out on Draco.
Muting her phone for a moment while swallowing the lump building up in her throat, she took a breath before changing the subject. “Is your father going to tank in the polls because of this?”
Draco let out a laugh at that. “I know you’re going to get upset when I say this, but it’s the God’s honest truth. Father won’t lose one supporter over this. Really, the only people who will be caught up in this are liberals. This won’t even end up on Fox, and if it does, it’ll be glossed over in an instant.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s the partisanship of the media at work. Republicans don’t care about identity politics and what they perceive to be old history.”
Hermione had to hold in an angry shriek, feeling like a banshee. “This isn’t old history; this is the literal basis of why there are so many barriers for black Americans.”
“I know this, but a majority of Americans don’t have the intellect or historical background to come to the same conclusion that you do. I mean… This was written in ‘Mother Jones.’ The only people who read that are liberals.”
He… had a point there where the magazine was concerned, she had to admit, if only to herself.
“And your father is going to gloss over your entire family’s history like it means nothing.”
“What do you expect him to do, baby?”
“Exactly that,” she mumbled, dragging her feet up the steps to their front door. It was already unlocked, making it clear that Pansy hadn’t returned to the office after taking a long lunch with Theo.
She moved up the stairs quietly, not wanting Draco to discover that one of his employees had skived off work.
“I don’t know what to tell you… Just be prepared for what’s to come.”
“I am,” she replied. “Are you okay to Facetime?”
Instead of answering, she received a Facetime call and was greeted with Draco’s signature stressed look. His normally perfect blond hair was mussed and he had a frown on his face that only diminished when he saw her.
“Hi,” she smiled, somewhat ashamed for the way that she’d harped at him now that they were face to face.
“Hi there, pretty lady,” he replied with a sly smirk. Clearly he was doing just fine.
Hermione took it in for a moment before shaking the fog out of her head. What the hell was she doing?
“What’s your dad going to do? I need to be prepared.”
“He’s going on Rita’s show tonight and will paint the picture of the Malfoy family pursuing and living the American dream. Nothing more, nothing less. Expect him to call out the liberal media, but there will be no explicit endorsement of slavery.”
“Just a subverted one.”
Draco let out a long breath. “It’s a long campaign season, and everyone is going to do what they need to do to make it to the finish line.”
She let out a hard laugh; she understood that sentiment more than Draco would ever know.
“If minimizing the horrors of slavery is what your dad needs to do to win, I’m not sure I know what to say.”
“Hermione… I’m not here to debate the morals of his decisions, I’m just answering the questions that you’ve asked.”
“I hate this,” she muttered, biting her bottom lip hard. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be asked about what he’s done without completely denouncing it.”
“Thankfully you don’t have to speak to the press about this, but all I ask is that you try and temper your anger in private conversations. The last thing that you need is to alienate yourself from your friends and colleagues right now.”
They were quiet for a moment, and she debated the merits of getting right back into it with Draco before deciding against it. This wasn’t his fault; yelling at him would do nothing but enrage the both of them further. So she extended an olive branch.
“At least Umbridge’s rollout was shot to hell.”
The blond brightened up at her change of subject. It was a small mercy for both of them; they had so little time to talk when Draco was back in Charlotte, and spending it upset with one another was the last thing they wanted.
“I think the dress she wore did that for her.”
“Draco!” Hermione laughed.
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” she shook her head. “You’re not. What are you doing the rest of the day?”
“I have the annual spaghetti dinner at a fire station tonight, mother is going with me.”
“She eats spaghetti?”
“I think she likes the attention of the young, handsome firemen, honestly.”
“No kidding?”
Draco shrugged. “I call it like I see it. How about you, sweetheart? Still getting dinner with Pansy?”
“I am. The office was slow, so Dorcas let us all go home early. Once Pansy finishes up at the office we’ll head out.”
Far too knowing, Draco raised an eyebrow. “I bet my entire fortune that she’s already home. I know her and Theo went out to lunch, and I called the office for him an hour ago and was told he’s out.”
Hermione was a bad liar in the best of circumstances, so the best she could do was give the man a winning smile.
“Knew it,” he smiled smugly.
“Oh hush! You can’t say anything to them.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
They hung up shortly after that, Pansy making a show of yelling up the stairs that had Draco rolling his eyes. They didn’t let her know that the jig was up, instead allowing her to pretend like she’d just hiked back home from the Capitol. Draco looked far too amused at Pansy’s theatrics, and it provided Hermione with comedic relief that she needed after such a whirlwind of a day.
Hermione shouted down the stairs for Pansy to come up, knowing that the girl had to be dying for more information.
“So? Still together?”
“We are,” Hermione confirmed, letting out a pained hiss when Pansy jumped onto the bed and jabbed a bony elbow into her calf.
“I feel like you’re turning into a conservative before my very eyes.”
Pansy laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder at the glare sent her way.
“This isn’t even about compromise, Pans. All of this is egregious. It makes me sick. People were forced to give their lives while working for the fortune that purchases the dresses I wear, the food I eat…”
“That’s far too deep of a dive into this, sis. You can’t let yourself get caught up in that. It’s like the concept from The Good Place; every good thing ends up tainted and twisted and corrupt somehow. You can’t help what Draco’s great great great great great grandfather did. All you can do is hold him accountable for what he’s doing now.”
“And his father?”
“Babe,” Pansy blew out a long breath. “No one gives a shit how they made their money. Everyone assumes there was something unscrupulous going on somewhere because that’s usually how fortunes are made in a capitalist economy. Most people would give anything to be born into wealth. Where the money comes from? They don’t care, and would probably thank their ancestors for being so smart with their investments.”
“That’s sick.”
“I think your idealism is sick,” Pansy shrugged. “The blowback is going to come from one side of the spectrum. Republicans do not get tied up in matters of money unless it’s evident that someone doesn’t know how to handle theirs well. Nothing turns a conservative voter on more than a candidate who is a good business person. Seriously. That’s all they’re asking for, lower taxes, high deficit, smart investments.”
“Sick,” Hermione repeated.
Pansy laid down on the bed, resting her face on Hermione’s thigh.
“That’s life, sis… That’s life.”
xx
“I can’t believe we’re eating here, Pans,” Hermione laughed.
“What? I can eat with the masses sometimes,” she shrugged, popping a tater tot in her mouth.
They were at a greasy sports bar that Pansy swore had the best tater tots in the entire city. How Pansy came to that conclusion, Hermione didn’t know. But she wasn’t wrong.
Hermione was only slightly sad that they were taking a two week break from her mentoring group while the girls finished up school for the year. Why middle schoolers had finals, she’d never know, but she offered herself up as a study partner if they needed anything. She was pleased to actually get a few messages asking her to look over essays, so she counted it as a win. But tonight, she was more than happy to kick back and relax.
“Wonders never cease.”
“So what happened with D?”
Pansy had taken to talking about the Malfoys in code when they were in public, as though people couldn’t figure out who D and L were if they recognized her.
Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling a bit loose after one strong mai tai.
“Nothing earth shattering, but he always defends his dad. I worry that he’s going to pick his parents over me one day.”
Pansy scoffed. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Based on what evidence?”
“The fact that he told you he’ll marry you right now if only to assuage your fears? He stormed out of dinner with Tom Riddle like the Hulk?”
“That doesn’t mean his loyalty lies with me over his family.”
“Honestly, sis… Your understanding of family is a bit fucked up. Understandably, of course, but once you’re engaged to Draco, you’re as good as family. All of them would go to bat for you. That’s how old families work.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. And you already know it. Do you want to know what I think, Hermione?”
This was a dangerous game to play.
“Sure?”
She wasn’t.
“You know that Draco’s proposal is imminent and you’re bumping up against the walls of your comfy, cozy little love box trying to find a reason to jump out. But you can’t find one.”
Pansy, smug as she was, had a point.
“I know,” Hermione groaned, shoving her face into her greasy palms before she could think better of it. “I love him. I want to be with him. I just feel like I’m the one giving up my life sometimes and I don’t know if it’s fair.”
“Every relationship is a push and pull. N gave up an unknown future for L, but gained beautiful children, access to any charity she wants to serve, and friends in the highest of places. And she does seem to genuinely like him. It’s give and take, sis.”
“What’s the give for D?”
“The life of ease and independence he’s grown accustomed to, positive public opinion in some circles, an easy route to leadership in his party until you’re married and deemed not a threat to the GOP.”
“His lot seems a lot lighter than mine.”
Pansy laughed, taking another sip of her martini.
“That’s life, babe. Someone carries the heavier load in every relationship you’re in, romantic, friendship, family... You’re in or you’re out, and to me it seems like you’re pretty set on being with him.”
“I am, it’s just weird getting to this point. I’ve heard people talk about cold feet when it comes to weddings, but never at this point. Aren’t engagements supposed to be exciting?”
“Just because they don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it’s real,” Pansy rolled her eyes, signalling to the waiter for another round. “No one’s absolutely certain that they want to spend their life with someone else. It’s awful, living with other people, dealing with their bad habits, having to deal with their emotions… But you make it work if you care enough for them.”
“How sage are you, Pansy Parkinson?”
“You’re just impressed because I’m the only person who’s willing to be honest with you.”
“Not totally. I’m also impressed because you always know what I need to hear.”
“Cheers to that,” Pansy smiled when their new drinks showed up, making a point to clink their glasses against one another.
A few drinks with Pansy was what she needed.
“Now,” Hermione said, “Tell me what’s going on with Theo…”
xxx
June 12, 2019
Hermione never slept with her phone volume on, knowing that any emergency could wait until the morning. Eight hours of sleep were far more important now that she was out of college, and no one was going to get in the way of that.
Other than Pansy, it seemed.
“Those ugly mother fuckers in the khakis and boat shoes, remember them?”
“What?” Hermione groaned, looking over at her friend whose face was illuminated by her phone. Mercifully, Pansy hadn’t turned the light on before starting her diatribe.
“The disgusting group of guys talking about visiting Daytona to see a Nascar race! They took a photo of us drinking.”
“So?” Hermione asked, plopping her head back down. This was not worth a 6am wakeup call.
“So, idiot, it’s in this morning’s Playbook!”
“I just can’t care, Pansy.”
“Go back to bed you sloth, I’ll be back from barre in an hour.”
An hour passed far quicker than Hermione could’ve ever hoped for, and Pansy didn’t even shower before barging back in.
“I’m back.”
“Shower?”
“It can wait.”
“You’re the one who always complains about post-workout UTIs,” Hermione yawned, feeling far better suited to face the day after a bit more sleep.
“I’ll be fine. Can you believe that there’s so little going on that you out drinking makes a morning newsletter?”
“I can,” Hermione replied with a confidence that had only come from litigating the same conversation over and over with Draco. “I’m over it, Pans. If I continue to give credence to every news story that comes out I’m going to go insane.”
“You’re not over it, you’re just choosing to ignore it,” Pansy clarified.
“Is there a difference?”
“There is, but I’m proud of you. Fuck everyone who stands in the way of your happiness, okay?”
Hermione smiled. “Okay. What did the story say?”
Pansy scoffed, whipping out her phone. “It’s not even a story, just a photo of us in the spotted section with a caption saying that Draco Malfoy’s barely-legal girlfriend was caught knocking back at least three drinks during a dinner.”
Barely legal? That’s what they were going with?
“That’s just ridiculous. We weren’t even somewhere flashy; I mean, hell, Cho and I went to Mission in Navy Yard last week and no one took photos!”
“And that place is GOP staff central,” Pansy’s nose scrunched up in disgust.
“Correct. I guess it’s just something to watch out for going forward.”
“At least you know Cho isn’t out to ruin your life.”
“You’d like her if you gave her a chance!”
“Maybe I’ll come to dinner next time,” Pansy mused.
“Having some other friends would be good.”
“I have friends, I just don’t like hanging out with them.”
“There’s a lot to unpack there… I think you’d like Cho if you gave her a chance.”
“We’ll see. Now, get up! It’s time for work.”
Hermione just shook her head, prepared for yet another day of stares and undesired attention.
xxx
WASHINGTON POST’S WEEKEND ROUNDUP: WHAT THEY’RE SAYING… THE MALFOY FORTUNE’S BLOODY HISTORY
Senator Lucius Malfoy (R-NC), presidential candidate, June 11 on Fox News’ How Rita Reads It: “Slavery was part and parcel of North Carolina’s economy during the time in which my ancestors held them. I cannot apologize for something I did not do, but will point out what this left-wing news outlet did not… The Malfoy family has always followed the rule of law, and that includes freeing slaves as soon as it was lawful.
“Any loss of life is regrettable, and as a senator I do not have any role in the day-to-day operations of any Malfoy holdings. When I became Majority Leader of the United States Senate, I established a blind trust to manage my assets - my integrity is central to who I am, and I will always be truthful with you, the American People. In the days ahead, I will keep my focus on the real issues that Americans care about, like lowering the cost of healthcare, a promise that our president has failed to keep, and prioritizing the needs of American workers and families.”
[Editor’s note: North Carolina passed its first law regulating the freedom of slavery in 1741. The Malfoys do not appear to have any applications or court cases filed with the State of North Carolina or any county in the state that would indicate they freed their slaves before the reading of the Emancipation Proclamation, though there were already legal pathways to doing so.]
President Kingsley Shacklebolt, June 12 before a meeting of his cabinet: “Is anyone surprised? The prosperity of some of America’s most notorious families has a bloody past, and it was done on the backs of enslaved individuals. I am disappointed, but not shocked that Senator Malfoy was unwilling to unequivocally condemn the actions of his ancestors. What’s the phrase my daughter uses? Republicans gonna Republican.”
*Laughter from room*
Congressman Draco Malfoy (R-NC), June 11 at an event in Charlotte, North Carolina: “I’m at a charity event, have some respect please.”
Congresswoman Amelia Bones (D-FL), presidential candidate, June 12 at a rally in Des Moines, Iowa: “Are we surprised that Senator Malfoy defended slavery as the status quo? Are we surprised that Senator Malfoy pointed to his family’s wealth? Does he ever not talk about their millions like it makes him qualified to serve as the voice of the American people?
“I have news for Senator Malfoy; the American people are ready for a president who stands up for the dignity of ALL of us, not just those who look like him. Here, I’ll say what he was unable to. Slavery is wrong. Convict-leasing is wrong. The American prison system that enriched his family hundreds of years ago is not in much better shape today than back then. We need to reform it. We need to confront the systemic racism that is rooted in the actions of families like the Malfoys. We need to give our neighbors a leg up so that no one is penalized for the skin they were born into or the zipcode their home is in. When I’m president, we’ll continue President Shacklebolt’s work to make our country a more equal, more just place. That means tackling the school to prison pipeline, shutting down all for-profit-prisons, and focusing on education, community policing, and people over profits.”
Speaker Albus Dumbledore (D-MA), June 12 statement from press office: “Speaker Dumbledore does not get involved in presidential primaries.”