Restitution
“I’ll see you for tea tomorrow at Andy’s,” Hermione confirmed with Narcissa. They were standing together, holding one another tightly in front of the fireplace in Narcissa’s sitting room.
“Would you like me to meet you at your flat? Of course, we can meet at Andromeda’s if you prefer.”
“Come over as early as you like, I’ll be up,” Hermione whispered back.
“I actually have some things to take care of in the morning. I’ll come by in time for tea, though, okay?”
“Of course. I’ll see you then,” the younger woman said, loosening her hold. Narcissa in response squeezed a bit tighter.
“Goodnight, my darling,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ear before placing a teasing kiss just below her ear.
Hermione sighed and smiled.
“Goodnight.”
They shared a lingering kiss before finally separating so Hermione could Floo back to her flat for the night.
As Hermione trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, she couldn’t help but look forward to the future and spending the night next to Narcissa. After the day they had had, she really didn’t want to leave her future wife.
A long shower and her favorite pajamas found Hermione curled up in her bed...tossing and turning.
“Ugh. This is ridiculous. One night on a couch together does not a pattern make. I am fine. I can sleep on my own.”
She flipped to her left side. Five minutes later she flipped back to her right side...still wide awake. She sat up, “warm milk.” Hermione stepped into her slippers and made her way downstairs. Entering the kitchen she let out a tiny startled scream seeing Harry sitting at the table. “What are you doing in here?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he laughed, “same for you?”
“Exactly. I thought maybe some warm milk might help.”
Harry pointed lazily, “Help yourself, it’s on the stove.”
Hermione set about mixing honey, vanilla, and cinnamon into her milk before she joined Harry at the table.
“What’s keeping you up, Harry?”
“I can’t quite put my finger on it. I’m just not feeling totally sold on the Weasleys today. It was too easy to convince Molly and Ron. My mind is spinning. Same for you?”
“Actually, no,” Hermione chuckled. “I’m not really worried about convincing the Weasleys of anything any more. We spoke with them today, which was more than I particularly wanted to do. Mrs. Weasley wants to help with the wedding planning which is never in a million years going to happen but it was kind of her to offer, I guess. Ron acted like he accepted my engagement with Narcissa but we’ll see if he sticks to that.”
“Huh...well if those things aren’t keeping you up, what is?”
“I’m absolutely ridiculous, that’s what.”
Harry waited her out. He knew Hermione, she was his best friend after all, and he knew she’d never be able to keep a secret from him.
“ I spent last night sleeping on a couch in a perfect little cottage in Hogsmeade wrapped up in Narcissa’s arms and it was...heaven. And I can’t sleep tonight because I’m ridiculous and I just keep wishing that I was back on that couch, with Narcissa, safe and happy and warm. Instead, I’m alone in my bed, thinking about her...and not sleeping.”
“That is a little ridiculous but also very sweet. You two are good together, Hermione.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione smiled, stifling a yawn.
Harry yawned back and they silently agreed to head to bed, carrying their mugs back upstairs with them.
Narcissa checked her robes one last time before heading out Monday morning. Her first stop was the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, a different person was working at the Wand Security Checkpoint and Narcissa was required to explain, again, that her former wand was destroyed at Hogwarts in May.
“And do you have proof of such a claim, Lady Malfoy?” the security wizard sneered.
“No, Officer,” Narcissa tilted her head to read his name tag, “Burbage, I do not. My son had borrowed my wand and after a confrontation in which Vincent Crabbe is said to have cast Fiendfyre, my wand was reported to me as destroyed. My son nearly lost his life in that fire and I was, honestly, quite distracted by my relief that he had survived to be all that concerned about my wand.”
“So I’m to just take your word for it? Trust a Malfoy?”
Narcissa bit her lip quite hard to contain the litany of insults she wished to throw at the rude, overly-confident, hyped-up security guard. Instead, she took a deep breath and spoke calmly, “I believe the witch who was working last Wednesday may have made a note somewhere? She was going to check with Master Ollivander himself about it. Unfortunately, I’m not quite certain how to verify the destruction of my wand other than with the testimony I’ve already presented to the Minister himself and the Wizengamot back in May. Just one point in fact, Officer Burbage, my name is Narcissa Black. I’m no longer a Malfoy.”
“I don’t see a note anywhere, Lady Malfoy, do you?” the officer said, staring at Narcissa. “Now, you’re holding up the line. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. Come back with the proper paperwork.”
Narcissa, jaw dropped open, stared at the angry security officer. She didn’t have any desire to make a scene, however, she was unaccustomed to allowing anyone to treat her so poorly in public. Deciding her next appointment was the more important one, Narcissa reached her hand out, “I’ll just take my wand and go, then.”
“Oh, no. Your wand is Ministry property until such time as you can prove you’re the rightful owner.”
Narcissa heard a gasp and glanced behind her to see a line of more than ten witches and wizards waiting to have their wands weighed to enter the Ministry.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mafalda Hopkirk said loudly, making her way across the atrium to the security desk.
“Head Hopkirk, miss. Lady Malfoy has an unregistered wand and can’t account for her previous wand’s whereabouts. I’ve confiscated this one for everyone’s safety, ma’am,” Officer Burbage smirked and puffed his chest out.
“Are you daft?” Mafalda Hopkirk asked bluntly. “The registration for this wand is right there,” she pointed to the read out next to the scale. “Her name is Mistress Black and who gives a newt’s tail if she has an extra wand at home? As long as it’s not concealed on her person it’s none of our business! Are you harassing this woman? If you are unable to execute this job fairly and freely of discrimination, you will no longer be employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!”
“Too right!” shouted a wizard from behind Narcissa.
“You tell him, Hopkirk,” said another.
Narcissa swallowed her objections, she tried to will her cheeks back to their typical porcelain coloring, she forced the tears from her eyes, and held her head high. “Thank you, Madam Hopkirk. I no longer have that other wand, it was destroyed in May. I believe the officer who was working the security desk Wednesday verified that with Wand Master Ollivander.”
“It’s no matter, Mistress Black. Here is the receipt for your wand. Bring it back to this desk when you leave today and you’ll get your property returned to you promptly.”
“Thank you, Madam Hopkirk,” Narcissa said, tilting her head, taking the slip, and heading to the lifts.
As she made her way across the atrium she heard Mafalda Hopkirk leading Officer Burbage through the next interaction but he was exceedingly polite to the witches and wizards behind her. His problem, she deduced, lay with her. It was an unfortunate happenstance that was only going to occur with more frequency as she spent more time amongst the general public. My poor Hermione, she thought, I come with such baggage.
Narcissa headed to the last lift in the line, the golden one that would take her down and sideways to the Archives. Narcissa stepped inside the lift and dropped the coin she had received into the slot. The doors slid closed and a pleasant voice announced, “Narcissa Black, Hall of Marital Records, Archive level 2.” Narcissa took a deep breath as the lift smoothly dropped, slid sideways, and dropped again before opening its doors to cavernous space filled with rows and rows of shelves.
“Good morning, dearie,” said a wrinkled, little old woman from a desk a few feet away.
“Good morning,” Narcissa answered automatically.
“How can I help you, Miss Black?”
“I’m not sure if you can. I’m here on a bit of a whim. Yesterday, a ministry employee referred to the ending of my former marriage as a divorce and I just wanted to check, with my own eyes if possible, that it truly was dissolved.”
“Hmm,” the old woman furrowed her brow and tilted her head as she lifted her wand. Turning in her chair, she sent the shelving units around the room in an intricate dance until the one she wanted was just before them. “Your End of Marriage Document will be on this shelf, filed along with all pertinent paperwork. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a rather large file. May I ask why you’re looking?”
“As you likely know, certain pureblood marriage contracts have certain clauses regarding, shall we say, relations and also subsequent marriages. With the latest Decree, I am engaged to be married to someone new, with whom I truly hope to have a long, happy, and equal partnership, Lady Metford, but I need to make sure this pureblood marriage contract was dissolved before that can happen. If that Ministry employee was correct yesterday and this was recorded as a divorce instead of a dissolution, there will be consequences I haven’t even begun to foresee - to both myself and my fiancée.”
“Yes, you’re quite right, Miss Granger would face some unfortunate consequences as well. Let’s check then, dearie, shall we? These are sorted by date.”
“If it’s the date of closure, then the twenty-eighth of May.”
Lady Metford rearranged the shelves once more to bring May within easy reach and the women quickly looked through until they held a sturdy box labeled Black Malfoy between them. A table rose from the floor behind them, clearly meant for sorting through files.
“I just ask, Miss Black, that you keep everything in order.”
Narcissa nodded quickly, lips pressed together, eyes wide.
As the keeper of the Hall of Marital Records went back to her desk, Narcissa carefully opened the box. Sitting atop was their original marriage contract, signed by Lucius and her father, Cygnus Black III. Narcissa herself was too young to sign all those years ago. She was surprised to find the marriage contract itself was quite detailed with sections added and amended by her father before his death.
“Lady Metford? Are you very knowledgeable about the law regarding magical marriage contracts?”
“A bit.”
“There are a great many addendums to the original marriage contract and it looks like each one was signed by Lucius and my father, Cygnus Black III. How long would those have been legal? When the marriage was dissolved, what would happen to any goods or gold or properties that had exchanged ownership beforehand based on the contract and addendums?”
“It’s my understanding that if two people agree to a contract and one of them breaks a contract term, they must pay the penalty, whichever form it takes. Once that penalty has been paid, though, it’s as if the slate is wiped clean. Unless, of course, there’s something in the contract that allows for penalties to grow with each offence or if a certain penalty would terminate the contract itself.”
“Say, hypothetically, there’s a clause in a marriage contract that states if one spouse has an extramarital affair they must transfer gold to the family vault of the other spouse. If that marriage contract were dissolved, would those terms be reversed or would they simply stay as they were at the time of dissolution?”
“Intriguing question, Miss Black. I would think they would stay as they were at the time of dissolution.”
“If so, I think I need to make an extra stop at Gringotts today,” Narcissa said under her breath.
Narcissa leafed through her testimony without spending too much time reading it carefully. She knew what she had gone through at Malfoy Manor, she didn’t need to relive it yet again. Finally, she came to the paperwork for which she was looking. The End of Marriage Document with all of its signatures and statements.
“The Wizengamot under the recommendation of Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, hereby decrees the pureblood union and marriage between Lucius Abraxas Malfoy currently of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England and Narcissa Black Malfoy currently of Malfoy Manor dissolved and ended from this time forward due to the causes of abuse, neglect, dishonesty, cruelty, and adultery. The Wizengamot has seen and heard testimony to all of these charges. Such testimony will remain sealed to the public at the bequest of Narcissa Black Malfoy. Thursday the twenty-eighth of May in the year nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.” Narcissa was so relieved her head went light for a moment.
Underneath that document, in the bottom of the box were two other papers. The first, the Ministry's charges against Lucius for what he had done to Narcissa during their marriage and the second, a motion filed by Lucius’ lawyer requesting the marriage decree be changed from dissolved to divorced. There was a big stamp across the top of the last page labelling it denied.
Narcissa closed the box tightly with a finality she needed to feel.
“Did you find what you were looking for, Miss Black?”
“I did, Lady Metford,” Narcissa smiled, “and I think I have some more good news headed my way!”
“Well, that’s lovely!”
“Are all marriage contracts automatically filed here? When Hermione and I get married in December, will our marriage certificate show up here?”
“Oh, no, it has to be filed by a Ministry employee. Usually someone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because contract law runs through them somehow.”
Narcissa must have made a dissatisfied face.
Lady Metford shrugged, “If no one sees fit to force change, it’ll never happen.”
“Too true. Thank you for your help, have a lovely day!” Narcissa turned to go but was stopped by the record keeper.
“You’ll need this to get back to the atrium,” she handed her a coin, similar to the one Narcissa had used earlier.
Narcissa smiled at her in thanks and took her leave.
In her flat in Seven Sisters Station, Hermione made her way groggily into the kitchen where Harry had already poured her a cup of tea.
She sat with him in friendly silence for a few peaceful minutes.
“Did you sleep better after our midnight chat, Mione?”
“I did,” she smiled. “The warm milk was perfect. You?”
Harry shrugged, “I suppose.”
“What are you up to today?”
“I’m going to the Ministry to meet with some senior Aurors about the training we’re skipping. I want to actually do the reading they recommend.”
Hermione put her hand on her heart, gasping, “surely you jest! Harry? Are you feeling okay? Reading voluntarily about something other than Quidditch?” They laughed together.
“Ha, ha. I know you spent six years in school with me refusing to read but I want to make sure I’m doing this as safely as possible.”
She reached out and grasped his forearm, “Well, I think it’s smart. Being an Auror is a dangerous job, you can never be too prepared.”
After a moment of silence, the friends looked at each other and both said, “Constant vigilance!”
“Ah, Mad-Eye,” Harry continued, “I reckon he’d be going nuts with the changes in the Auror department.”
Hermione nodded and slid the Quibbler toward herself. “Anything today?”
“Not really,” Harry said. “I think there’s mention of Draco and Dean’s beautiful ceremony and you and Narcissa looking captivating together. Nothing negative anywhere and no photos today. But there are a bunch of new couples listed.”
“That’s a nice break. When are you going to the Ministry? I want to head to Diagon Alley and send some owl post to Hogwarts. I also want to set up a post box there like Narcissa said.”
“I don’t need to be there until ten so I have some time. Go write your letters and get ready, we can go together.”
“I’ll be quick,” Hermione said, standing and rinsing her teacup in the sink, “I’m just sending a quick note to each professor with whom I’d like to study for NEWTs requesting that they please let me know when they can schedule me in and asking whether or not they’re able to be flexible with that schedule. I’ll be right back!”
Hermione popped upstairs and quickly wrote out letters for all eight of the NEWT subjects she wanted and then got dressed for the day. As she stacked the letters and slipped her feet into her shoes, Hermione paused. She had not often worried about her clothing or looks but found herself questioning what she had on for the day. Against her better nature, Hermione changed from her generic jeans and t-shirt into a pair of well fitting black trousers and a more flattering, button up top. She swapped her trainers for black sandals and started to smooth her hair into a quick twist. “No, Hermione. That’s too much. You are a woman with curly hair; own it!”
Hermione met Harry downstairs and the two of them left for Diagon Alley.
“Thanks again for the coffee, Tom,” Harry said as they left the Leaky Cauldron.
“Yeah, the pumpkin pasties were delicious,” Hermione complimented.
They tapped the proper brick and the world of Diagon Alley opened before the two friends. It was bustling with the usual Monday morning activity.
“I just want to pop into the Owl Post Office first, Harry. Do you want to come with? Or I can meet you somewhere after?”
“Let’s go together. I might want to get a post box here as well.”
Out of habit, the two of them scanned the street as they walked.
“Hermione?” Harry asked.
“Hmm?”
“Did that woman...I mean...was that Narcissa?” he nodded his head toward Gringotts.
“I didn’t see,” she said, looking in that direction. “She had some things to take care of this morning. We’re meeting at our flat before we go to Andy’s for tea later, she may be here, I haven’t a clue.”
“Oh,” Harry smiled, “it would be kind of funny if you two, even when you aren’t trying to spend time together, end up spending time in the same place.”
Hermione just smiled and pulled Harry around the corner toward the Owl Post.
As it turned out, Harry was correct. Narcissa Black had just entered Gringotts Bank.
“Yes, Miss Black, how may I help you,” Garnjee, one of the banking goblins said, not unkindly.
“Um, hello, Garnjee, is it?” The goblin nodded and sat up a bit straighter. “Are you still the goblin who manages the Malfoy estate?” He nodded again. “I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me regarding the gold in my vault, the actual ownership of vault 710, and the Malfoy estate.”
“Certainly, Miss Black,” he said, climbing off of his stool and scurrying down to the main level, “follow me to my office.” He led her through a short maze of low-ceilinged corridors until they got to an office with his name on it. “After you,” he opened the door and waved her in.
“Thank you very much,” Narcissa said, impressed with the polite way he was treating her.
“Your questions?”
“Yes, I don’t know if my questions are all appropriate or if you are able to answer them but…”
“You can still ask. I will not tell anyone what you ask me.”
Narcissa smiled a bit at him, questioningly.
“Miss Black, we know you saved the war. We know Voldemort killed Griphook and many other goblins. We know if the Death Eaters would have won we would be enslaved. What happens now with the Ministry isn’t perfect but our leaders at least can negotiate for us. If it had gone the other way.” Garnjee shuddered.
“I understand. My questions are regarding the gold and the heirlooms in the Black family vault of which I am the rightful possessor, I think?” Narcissa was quite unsure how the transference of vaults worked.
“You are the rightful heir by blood line and will to Vault 710. It was passed to you to share with Bellatrix Lestrange after the death of your parents,” Garnjee snapped his fingers and a drawer slid open. From the drawer, flew a thick file with the Black family tree drawn on the outside.
“Did Bellatrix spend much of it?”
“Madam Lestrange spent nothing of Vault 710, she used only the Lestrange family vault.”
“After Bella’s death, did Vault 710 pass to anyone else?”
“You are the only rightful heir of Vault 710. No one else has access without your express permission. Due to the activity of Potter, Granger, and Weasley earlier this year, no one may enter any Vault of which they are not the owner without the owner present.”
That was not something Narcissa was expecting. She had honestly forgotten about Hermione’s catastrophic break-in at Gringotts and the damage they had caused.
“Can you show me a general transaction history of the money in Vault 710 over the last, say, decade?”
Garnjee opened the folder he had taken out and showed Narcissa exactly what she asked for.
“Am I understanding this correctly? All of the deductions are for expenses related to Black Manor in Enfield and Maison de Black in Paris?”
“Correct.”
“What are all of these deposits?” There were dozens of little green deposit marks in the account history and, as she looked more closely, Narcissa was able to see that each one doubled in amount for a certain time period and then started over. Yes, in January, the green deposits would go back and start at two hundred fifty galleons and throughout the year, each time there was a deposit, the amount would increase. The eighteen months before the war ended saw more deposits than ever before.
“Uh, Miss Black, are you sure you want an answer to that?”
“Yes, I don’t understand. They double through the year but then, each January, they start back at two hundred fifty galleons. What on earth could that be?”
“Miss Black,” Garnjee said in a small voice, “did you have a marriage contract?”
“Yes, of course. It was dissolved in May,” she said quickly.
“Do you happen to remember the punishment for cheating on one’s spouse?”
Narcissa stared blankly at the diminutive goblin, then looked back at the bank account...then back at the goblin...she stared back and forth for a long, long, long five minutes.
Finally, she realized what the deposits meant. “Oh, my, goodness. Are you saying...does this mean that each of these deposits is an act of adultery?”
“I am not privy to the tenets of your marriage contract but I would assume that each of these deposits from the Malfoy Vault represents a broken clause. Someone must also have agreed to bring that back to a starting point annually or Malfoy would’ve gone bankrupt a decade ago. As it is, the only money he has left is what he makes himself.”
Narcissa was completely baffled. The amount of money in her coffers was far beyond what she imagined with all the payments Lucius had had to make over the years. She wondered if he had known about them.
“Garnjee, this has only led me to more questions.”
“That’s okay, Miss. Ask them.”
“Did Lucius know he was paying me every time? It looks like some of these payments happened twice in one day. Look here, on May second...wait a moment. May the second? I wonder what he did. Whatever it was he paid me, Merlin’s pants, twenty thousand galleons and twenty-two thousand galleons that day alone. A total of forty-two thousand galleons into the Black family vault in one day. Is that accurate?”
“His personal banking records at home were magically updated with each deduction from his account so he could keep track of his fortune. He was making money with his various capital ventures, particularly the PureFloo he was a partner in. So, a lot of money was coming out but he did have some coming in. If you hadn’t ended your marriage, he wouldn’t have financially survived the year.”
“And my son? Did he inherit the Malfoy family vault and estate?”
“He did. He has full access to everything.”
Narcissa’s heart dropped. She wasn’t foolish enough to think Draco thought his father was perfect but she was still devastated for her son, to know that he was going to see it written before his own eyes that his father was a terrible spouse, a terrible partner.
“Did Lucius’ imprisonment terminate his business dealings?”
“As far as I can tell, most of his partnerships are still active. One of them has ended but that’s because the active, managing partner is also in Azkaban and no one’s running the business.”
“Which one was that?”
Garnjee frowned and glanced away before answering, “the security operations.”
“Security?” Narcissa hadn’t known Lucius was involved in security. That seemed a bit too wholesome for him.
“Yes, they called it security. Lucius’ partner would go around to the wizarding shops in Wiltshire and demand payment for providing security.”
“Oh, my goodness, they were running a protection racket? Right in Wiltshire? Do you have the names of the shops? Can I return that money?”
Garnjee smiled, “Young Master Malfoy has already personally returned the money with his apologies and a lovely bonus.”
“And the others? The remaining businesses?”
“Yes, I mentioned PureFloo. You and Draco both still benefit from that and I would recommend you both stay on with that business. A few small shops in Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade, they’ll probably be buying out your investment in the next five to ten years. You’re still in negotiations with Les Terreurs du Terrain for partial ownership. There’s also The Daily Prophet, you’re partial owners of that as well.”
Narcissa’s eyebrows shot straight up. She was a partial owner of the Daily Prophet? The newspaper which had just printed a shoddy, nasty, and incorrect article about her? “I’m a partial owner of The Daily Prophet?”
“Yes, see this green line?” Garnjee pointed to a monthly deposit and waited for Narcissa to nod. “That’s your payment from the Prophet. They almost went under when the war started. They’d been printing all those nasty things about Potter and then it was revealed that he and Dumbledore were telling the truth. Almost the whole of Britain cancelled their subscriptions. Your husband and a bunch of other opportunists swooped in, bought the paper, and kept it afloat. Also managed to get it printing what they wanted again for the most part. Now, whatever happened with the dissolution of your marriage contract, you got a lot of the business holdings because of the things he did bad to you. So, you’re a partial owner now.”
Narcissa made a mental note to share that with Hermione later and asked about the next item that had stuck in her mind, “And just what is Les Terreurs du Terrain?”
“Some French Quidditch team? They play out of Paris?”
She nodded, smirking. “That makes sense, my son loves Quidditch. If that goes through and it turns up in my books I’ll want to sign that ownership over to him.”
Garnjee was surprised, “Miss, Quidditch teams make a lot of money. Are you sure you don’t want to split it? At least for a while? Sometimes young people with that much money don’t make the best choices.”
“Hmm, a valid point. Alright, I’ll hold off on that for now but could you just keep that thought for the future?”
Garnjee smirked a little and looked sideways at Narcissa.
“What? Did I say something incorrectly? I apologize if I’m doing this the wrong way, I’ve never been able to be in charge of my own finances.”
“No, miss, it’s just that most purebloods don’t trust us goblins to do right with your money.”
“Well, that’s just silly. You’re not going to work here if you’re not honest about it. You’re the Gringotts’ manager of my accounts and I trust you.”
Garnjee nodded and spoke hesitantly, “I do have a recommendation for you then, Mistress Black.”
“Go ahead,” she was listening intently.
“You’re currently served with a high security vault, number seven hundred and ten. It was split years ago between your father and his sister, Walburga, when she married Orion Black. Walburga and Orion took Vault 711 which was left to Sirius and Regulus and eventually moved to the possession of Harry Potter based on the claim that Sirius was godfather to Potter. You, of course, could make a blood claim on that vault as a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” Narcissa shook her head and Garnjee continued, “I think you must, as your wealth has accumulated quite rapidly and is literally bursting at the seams of your vault, move to a maximum security family vault.”
“What would that mean?”
“Gringotts would move your wealth and treasures from Vault number seven hundred and ten to the Black Family Vault located deeper within the grounds of the bank. It would be guarded by key, goblin, and creature and have much more space available. It would come with a greater fee but a woman of your wealth wouldn’t even notice the cost.”
“Before I agree, there’s a matter I believe we should settle. My future spouse was part of the group that executed a necessary but damaging venture inside the walls of Gringotts. Clearly, you have physically repaired the bank, it’s gleaming and beautiful once again. Witches and wizards are still utilizing your great institution. However, I’m sure there was a large cost associated with repairing the damages both structurally and socially,” Narcissa said smoothly.
“Indeed there was,” Garnjee answered, his eyes black and narrowed.
“I would like to pay for two thirds of that damage. Based on the amount on the bottom line of my ledger I can likely afford whatever the cost, within reason.”
“Two thirds?”
“I am requesting that I be allowed to pay for the portion of the damages caused by Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Granger-Black, and Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley will need to see about his own form of repayment to the bank but Hermione is going to be my spouse, my partner in all things. What’s mine is hers and I would like to settle this before we wed.”
“And Potter?”
“It’s a bit nuanced. He...was manipulated his whole life by people who he thought truly just cared for him. He confused love with need and offered loyalty where none was returned. I offer him my loyalty now expecting nothing back because, after eighteen years, he deserves it.”
Garnjee steepled his long, bony fingers beneath his chin and stared at Narcissa for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, “I’ll need to clear your request with the bank management, Miss Black, but I will recommend that they accept your payment.”
“Thank you. Would it be possible for me to wait while you ask now? Depending on the cost, we might not need to move my vault after all,” Narcissa bit her lip, tightening her hands together.
“Miss Black,” Garnjee said as he stood up, “you have hundreds of millions of galleons in your vault in addition to Black Manor, Maison de Black, your family heirlooms, your artwork, and your business holdings. Paying the bank ten times over wouldn’t even make a dent.”
“Then please, tell the bank manager that I understand the need to be considerably fair in the payment.”
Garnjee chuckled, “That should quicken the conversation.”
He was indeed back faster than Narcissa expected, however the bank manager had joined him.
“Bogrod, nice to see you,” Narcissa stood and tipped her head to the goblin who had recently taken over as manager.
“Thank you, Miss Black, you as well, please sit.”
She did as asked and waited for one of the goblins to speak. Garnjee started, “Miss Black, Bogrod would like a little more than a simple payment. He’s asked to speak with you regarding his expectations for Miss Granger, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley.”
“Certainly, how can we resolve this to the bank’s satisfaction and security?” Narcissa asked.
“You can start by having that little band of misfits apologize. Not once have they so much as muttered an ‘oops’ after destroying a building that’s centuries old and causing the deaths of a dozen goblins.”
Narcissa sat up straighter, “I’m confused, Bogrod, no where have I seen anything that said any goblins were killed by Hermione, Harry, or Ron. They killed goblins? The Golden Trio murdered sentient, magical beings who were here simply doing their jobs?”
“I didn’t say that. I said they caused the deaths of a dozen goblins. Voldemort did the killing because the Trio did the break in. They need to acknowledge their role in the deaths of our men and women and they need to pay restitution to the institution of Gringotts for the work we had to do to repair our hallowed halls and our hallowed reputations.”
“I will bring them here this week to discuss the matter. I am prepared to pay Hermione and Harry's parts of that restitution today. What is the cost?”
Bogrod smirked at her and it was so reminiscent of her sister’s smirk, Narcissa felt a shiver slither down her spine. “Four hundred ninety-six million galleons.”
“It’s a shame you couldn’t be mature about this because I was truly willing to pay you two thirds of the restitution you wanted immediately. Now, you can wait. I’ll talk to Harry and Hermione, we’ll see what they say.” Narcissa started to gather her belongings to leave when Bogrod spoke up again.
“Fine. I’ll accept seventy-five million and a publicly written apology printed in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler.”
“Done,” Narcissa stretched out her hand to the old goblin. He whipped a clean needle out of his pocket and instructed her to drip one drop of blood on the corner of the contract that had automatically drawn itself up as they spoke. He did the same and they smiled and left.
Narcissa stepped back out onto Diagon Alley and checked her pocket watch. She still had plenty of time before tea and was relieved she hadn’t missed her next appointment. As she made her way around the slight curve in the roadway, she thought she saw Hermione step into Eeylops Owl Emporium. “Hmm, it’s only been one night and I miss her so much I’m seeing her everywhere? Ridiculous!”