Assignments
“There’s just no way to make this work, Miss Black,” Betty Braithwaite said. “You want us to write, by hand, more than one article a day with research to back it up? How? There’s no time!”
“Miss Braithwaite, you may use a quill, a pencil, or a typewriter to put your stories to paper. If you are unable to write more than one article per day, that’s fine, you’ll be held responsible for one and paid that way. The bottom line is that the Prophet is bleeding money and we’re going to fix it. This is going to be hard work. We’re looking at probably three and half months of terribly hard work followed by another six months of moderately hard work before it becomes fun again. But...if we try it this way...it has a chance,” Narcissa said to the room of reporters at the Daily Prophet Headquarters. “We aren’t asking anyone to work for free. You’ll be paid fairly for the work you’re doing and you’re welcome to sell your articles to other publications after first printing here.”
“So, you want me to run the Social Section?” Rita Skeeter asked, sneering and laughing. “I don’t work for the Prophet, Lady Malfoy. I’m a freelance author and I write what I want, when I want, for whomever I want, and they pay for it. Handsomely.”
“Well, if it’s written with a Quick-Quotes Quill like the previous junk you’ve written has been, the Prophet will neither buy nor advertise it. I’m an owner here and I have first hand experience having one of those acidic quills writing about me and those about whom I care, they rarely record the truth and they frequently embellish the inferences. The Prophet is above such shortcuts. As far as ‘running the Social Section’ I don’t believe anyone here asked that of you. In fact, I’m one hundred percent certain you were told in order to continue contributing to the Social Section, you would have to sign a contract agreeing to retire your Quick-Quotes Quills. We are hoping, in fact, Miss Emily Limus would take over as the Content Editor of the Social Section.”
The room broke into polite applause as all faces turned toward the woman seated near Barnabas. She had been with the paper for years, as loyal as the day is long. “Thank you. I would be honored,” Emily said, standing briefly and nodding her head before taking her seat again allowing the meeting to continue.
“So, you’re declaring war on a brand of quills? What now? Do you own the Rapid Writer?” Skeeter continued.
Narcissa pursed her lips and stared back at Rita before smirking slightly and replying - to everyone’s surprise, “Actually, that’s not a terrible question. I do have a lot of new business holdings of which I was previously unaware but I don’t think there are any rapid writing instruments in there. Darling,” Narcissa said and turned toward Hermione, a glint in her eye, “do you know if we have any holdings in Rapid Writer Quills?”
“Not that I’m aware of, my dear,” Hermione answered, not even bothering to hide her smile.
“There. You see, Rita? We will be using no short-cuts of any kind at this paper. Is there some kind of auto-writing type-machine we should also include in everyone’s new contracts?”
“Contracts?” Narcissa heard from the other side of the room.
She turned to make eye contact with Hermione who also looked confused.
“Yes. Contracts. You are to be contracted employees of the Daily Prophet. You will have jobs with specific tasks and expectations. Those will come with guidelines and requirements, also protections and guarantees from us, along with your salary and an outline for how to get a bonus. Obviously the Editor-in-Chief makes the most money, then the Content Editors, Reporters, and Interns. As the Prophet grows back into the larger-than-life paper we all know her to be, we will add a few more categories in there like Managing Editor, Junior Editors, Senior and Junior Reporters, and the like.”
“Before we finish laying out the new assignments, I just want to know if anyone is interested in covering the Decree and all the upcoming weddings and announcements,” the Editor-in-Chief asked the reporters. “I know Kikus has been covering the announcement for us so far, but if you’re not vested in it, we can assign someone else.”
“Well, mate,” the older gentleman rubbed his palms together, “I don’t mind covering the Decree and even going to the Ministry to ask some questions and follow some leads but I’m not keen on the weddings themselves.”
“Hmm,” Cuffe nodded, making eye contact with Narcissa.
“Then I do think you’re the perfect person to be the Content Editor of the Special Section on Ministerial Decrees. You can hire reporters or seek interns to write some articles under you but you have control of that section. Betty can be your wedding writer, she likes that stuff, yeah, Betty? You can attend any Decree-weddings the Prophet gets invited to and report on them. Any new Decree-related wedding announcements will go in your section. What do you think, do you agree?”
Kikus tilted his head back and forth, trying to decide. “Do you think the wedding announcements and reports ought to go in the Decree section? I think they should go in the Social Section. They’re weddings, not Ministry events.”
The newsroom was once again silent as everyone thought about how to answer. “And yet,” Emily Limus spoke up, “hasn’t the Ministry made them Ministry events? By declaring themselves able to assign marriage partners and childbearing timeframes, has the Ministry not intertwined these two sections themselves?”
“And that,” Narcissa pointed to Emily, “is why everyone must be in the newsroom each day. Special Section Content Editor, Kikus Trecus. Social Content Editor, Emily Limus. Sports Content Editor, Matthais Carneirus. Personal Interest Content Editor, Keira Morrison. Breaking News will be assigned to reporters as Barnabas sees fit and he will have editorial control as it will nearly always be above the fold, front page news. Our photographers will be Adrian, Bozo, Gary, Davina, and Eta. Matthias, I very, very, very strongly urge you to reach out to the European, French, and Irish Quidditch Leagues to get reports and scores for their leagues every single day. I also urge you to start a column on different wizarding sports. Run a weekly column on Quodpot with the league results from the American league and the North American League, Gobstones, Wizarding Chess tournaments, and even exploding snap. I also think it would be a great bridge to budding sports writers of the future if you contacted Headmistress McGonagall and asked for a student to write a weekly recap of their Quidditch games for a Hogwarts league column. You could do the same for the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Quidditch leagues as well, if you’d like, and even the Ilvermorny Quodpot league. It would really beef up the Sports section of the Prophet and, in my opinion, sell a lot more papers. It would also set us up to have that inside relationship when the Tri-Wizard Tournament does start back up again, which I’m sure it will.”
Matthias was taking notes and nodding every so often. “I was thinking actually, um, Miss Black, that it would be kind of neat to get an inside perspective from a player. What’s life really like on a professional Quidditch team? Maybe that could be a weekly column? An editorial from a different quidditch player?”
“Great idea, Matthias!” Barnabas laughed, excited. Narcissa smiled and nodded along, too.
“For the Personal Interest section, it will have the ‘Prophet’s Problems’ page from before but you needn’t run every column every day. Also in Personal Interest you can include classified ads, eh, job listings, things like that. That will also be where the ‘human interest’ stories go. So, say some witch decides next week to start a charity for orphaned house elves and we want to run an article on her. You would run it in the Personal Interest section and have Editorial control over the content before it even reached Barnabas for layout.”
“So, I can run the, say, financial column on Tuesdays and Thursdays and the romance column on Saturdays and Sundays?”
“Whatever days work best for you and your readers. You probably already know when those letters are coming in. You know best when to print them.”
“If you haven’t been named a Content Editor or a photographer, you are a reporter. Content Editors, please choose an office along the outside of the room. Reporters, please choose a desk. Barnabas and Samantha have had the entire newsroom cleaned and restocked in preparation for today’s meeting. Now. We have a paper going to print in just over twelve hours. So, reporters, can you split yourselves up or shall we assign you to an editor?”
Everyone in the room stared at Narcissa in shock for a few moments. They had never been ordered around so...politely before.
“I think we mostly know where we’d like to be. If there’s a conflict or a problem, though, what shall we do? To whom shall we speak?”
“If you can’t make it work with your Content Editor or, vice versa, Content Editors, if you have a reporter who just isn’t working out in your section, you have to let me know as soon as you can. We can mediate or re-assign but only if we’re made aware of any situations that arise,” Barnabas said loudly but with compassion. He truly hoped the reorganization worked, he loved the Daily Prophet and wanted quite badly for the paper to survive.
“Miss Skeeter, we appreciate you joining us for this meeting,” Narcissa said kindly, “but as you can see, our newsroom is hard at work and you are a freelance writer who, as you reminded us, doesn’t work for the Prophet, see you soon. Any other reporters who consider themselves freelance writers, please wait in the lobby, Mr. Cuffe and I will be out to speak with you in a moment.”
Narcissa and Hermione took a quick moment to themselves while the Prophet employees moved around the room negotiating desk choices with one another and bargaining for which section of the paper they wanted to write. “Narcissa, your plan worked perfectly. I’m so proud of you,” Hermione pressed a quick kiss to the other woman’s cheek.
“Thank you,” Narcissa blushed. “I hope the Prophet survives this shake up. It really is going to be a smaller paper to print at first while everyone remembers how to actually write an article.”
“I wonder…” Hermione trailed off, biting at the corner of her lip.
“What do you wonder? What did you notice?”
Hermione waited another moment to answer, pulling Narcissa further away from the others and saying quietly, “I wonder why Rita Skeeter is so defensive of the Quick-Quotes Quill. It hasn’t really helped her reputation and she knows it writes falsehoods. I wonder what her real tie to it is, that’s all.”
“Good point,” Narcissa smirked. “Come with me? I want to speak with Emily.” Hermione nodded and followed closely behind Narcissa as she made her way to the other woman’s new little office. She rapped once on the door frame and smiled when Emily looked up.
“Miss Black,” the editor grinned.
“Miss Limus, we wanted to offer our congratulations on the Content Editor position. The Social Section may seem frivolous but I hope you don’t take it that way.”
“What do you mean?” Emily narrowed her eyes.
“Take Kikus, for example,” Narcissa stepped into Emily’s office and leaned back against the doorframe, “I got the distinct impression that he feels attending weddings would be beneath his job as a journalist. That’s what he thinks of as the Social Section of the Prophet.”
“And you?”
“Hermione and I think of Social as events that affect society.”
“But...any event could affect society.”
Hermione and Narcissa simply stared back at Emily as she looked back and forth between them.
“Wow.”
“Quite,” Narcissa answered her quietly. “I hope you realize, we’ve given you a lot of responsibility here, Miss Limus. You have your first choice of those reporters out there. I care not what they think they want to write. If you need them to write or research for you, they’re yours. The Social Section is where we expect to see the most serious articles. Long term pieces following policy changes and politicians. I’d like you to start with a personal favor to me and write about the shake up here at the Prophet. The new layout, the new editing format, all the changes we’ve put in place. If you could talk up all of the local sports insights Matthais is going to print and the international sporting information they’ll get weekly, I think that will be a big bonus for us, as well.”
“As I said before, Miss Black, I’m honored,” Emily repeated. She stood and held out her hand reaching to shake Narcissa’s and Hermione’s. “I’d like to get started on that article because there’s another idea I have for tomorrow’s paper I’d like to get to as well and I want to speak to a few reporters out there. Anything else you’d like me to follow specifically?”
Narcissa pressed her lips together, clearly thinking, “No, I think that’s all for now.”
“I think, if I may?” Hermione spoke quietly, looking at Narcissa.
“Go ahead, darling, you’ll also be an owner as soon as we’re married.”
“I was just going to say, I think you’d find it interesting to track the couples the Ministry has assigned, Miss Limus.”
“Really? I haven’t paid much attention. Are they all that interesting?”
“I should think, for a reporter used to ferreting out all kinds of interesting background information, one would find the Ministry selections interesting. Narcissa and I were not, in fact, initially assigned to one another,” Hermione reached for her fiancée’s hand, “and we had to go to the Ministry and ask permission to get married to one another.”
“I didn’t realize. That is interesting. Maybe I will look into that,” Emily made a note and, using her wand, stuck it to the wall.
“Well, we know you want to get to work, so we won’t keep you any longer. Best of luck in your new position!” The couple smiled and left the small office to make their way through the buzzing newsroom.
There were only a few people huddled in the lobby near Samantha’s desk and the only one speaking was Rita Skeeter. “No, you listen to me, Barnabas Cuffe! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll toss that Death Eater and her little trollop right out the door before you lose the whole lot of us! Do you know how much money I make for this rag? Do you know who I am?”
“No need to shout, Miss Skeeter, everyone in Diagon Alley can hear you. You’re free to go,” Narcissa said calmly, hands linked behind her back. She entered the lobby in front of Hermione.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Rita was red-faced and seething with anger.
“As an owner of the Daily Prophet, in fact, I do. And I am. I’ve never been a fan of your writing technique. I think you’re unnecessarily cruel and you enjoy it, that’s disturbing and it says a lot about you as a human being. The majority ownership of the Daily Prophet no longer wishes to publish your work nor print any advertisements for it. Please vacate the premises. Now.”
Staring so intently at Rita’s eyes, Narcissa hadn’t seen her wand slip into her hand. Rita whipped it toward Hermione as she turned to the door intending to hex the young woman. Narcissa was still quicker and a silent protego shielded the couple just in time. Rita was pushed back several feet and stumbled.
“I’m not sure what you were about to do to Hermione but I would advise you not to attack her again. She’s a strong and independent witch who has faced off against worse than you and came out victorious. I shall not ask again, Rita. Vacate the premises.”
“Adrian!” Rita shouted.
The young man rushed into the lobby, camera around his neck, “what happened? Do you need a photo?”
“No,” Rita answered, “we’re leaving. We don’t work here for these people. We’re freelance journalists, remember. Now, let’s go find a story and send it to every paper that actually sells.”
Barnabas’ jaw clenched and he ground his teeth together. It was one thing to kick out that wretched Rita Skeeter, but he was going to lose his best photographer, too.
“Uh, Rita, I do work here. I’m a photographer for the Daily Prophet. This camera? It belongs to the Prophet. That’s why every picture I ever took for you got published here first. I’m actually the lead photographer here going forward, I’ll be assigning the others to the stories that are running.”
“Fine!” She shouted. “The rest of you! Let’s go!”
The small group of freelance journalists huddled together looked back and forth, wide-eyed, from Rita to Narcissa.
“None of you are duty-bound to remain here. Mr. Cuffe and I were going to explain the rates and requirements for freelance writers moving forward but, if you’ve no desire to hear them in person, feel free to follow Ms. Skeeter to another publication. Perhaps the Quibbler pays for articles now?”
“They’re coming with me. I’ve trained them. They can’t write a word without my permission,” Rita smirked.
One woman in the back of the group pushed her way through and spoke up, “To clarify, I believe the agreement was that if we purchased a Quick-Quotes Quill and signed the associated contract, which, incidentally, you basically forced us to do by blackmailing us with various ridiculous personal information, we couldn’t use the Quick-Quotes Quill to write anything without the approval of a certified Quick-Quotes Quill Consultant, which, of course, you just happen to be. Those contracts weren’t everlasting, though, Rita, and they said nothing about writing using other tools or instruments.”
“Ania, of course you side with them,” Rita spat.
Ania rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself. I’m not ‘siding’ with anyone. I thought we were all adults here making our own employment decisions. If you no longer wish to write freelance for the Prophet that’s your call but you don’t own us.”
Adrian slowly lifted his camera and took a photo of the standoff. The flash spurred Rita into action and she stormed out throwing a hearty “you’ll be sorry” over her shoulder as the door closed behind her.
“Well, lead photographer, were you able to sort out the darkroom?” Barnabas asked.
“Yes, sir, the darkroom’s all sorted, we’ve got our desks downstairs, and Gary’s going to be the developer for now. He’s quite good at it - better than the rest of us with the potion.”
“Great, then check in with the Content Editors for tomorrow’s paper,” Cuffe clapped Adrian on the shoulder as the photographer headed back into the newsroom.
“Samantha,” Narcissa said, stepping toward the receptionist’s desk, “is the conference room able to be used right now?”
“Yes! They finished that just as the meeting started. You can fit about fifteen people in there. Do you need any refreshments?”
“Thank you but no, we’ll be quick. We will need some contracts drawn up this evening, though, and ready to be signed in the morning. Can you owl the Prophet’s barrister and let him or her know?” Samantha nodded and Narcissa stood up and clapped her hands once to get the attention of the writers still milling about. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please head into the conference room just through the newsroom there and have a seat, Mr. Cuffe will be outlining the rates and requirements for freelance journalists for the Daily Prophet.”
Once the lobby was empty of everyone but Samantha, Narcissa, and Hermione, the receptionist spoke again, “Miss Black!”
“What is it, Samantha? I knew something was wrong.”
“The Prophet couldn’t afford to keep a barrister on retainer anymore. We don’t have anyone to write up the new contracts tonight,” she whispered just loudly enough for the other two to hear.
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll figure it out, Samantha. Don’t worry,” Narcissa smiled and patted the other woman’s hand. “Now, I’m just going to pop into Barnabas’ meeting with the freelancers and then Hermione and I will be on our way. We have so much to do for the wedding.” Narcissa couldn’t help but look at Hermione as she said that.
Hermione smiled at her, surprisingly content to spend her afternoon enjoying Narcissa’s display of power, grace, and savvy. “I’ll wait right here.”
Narcissa was glad she stepped into the meeting.
“That wraps it up I think,” Barnabas said, standing from the head of the table.
“Great!” Narcissa exclaimed. “You covered the fee per article, photo, and interview?”
“We did,” he agreed.
“You went over the affidavit they will sign when they submit anything that certifies that they have followed the five principles of ethical journalism?
“We did,” he laughed a little and agreed again.
“And you explained that we will only print them twice a week maximum?”
“Oh, I did forget that bit,” he winked at her, knowing he forgot that bit on purpose.
Two of the writers who had already stood from their chairs dropped back down quickly.
“Wait just a second here,” a journalist, Jamison Wolfe, spoke up, “that’s a huge change!”
“It really is!” Ania agreed. “We can’t make nearly what we’ve made in the past if we can only print with you twice a week.”
Narcissa steepled her fingers under her chin nodding and listening to their complaints around the table. Barnabas was getting upset and his reddening cheeks were a clear giveaway.
“I’m hearing,” Narcissa said quietly, so they’d all have to stop speaking to listen to her, “that you want to keep making the same amount of money as before. Is that true?”
They all agreed it was.
“If you want to make as much as a contracted employee makes, you must also be a contracted employee. That means you show up here, at the Prophet, every day for work. You write the articles which are assigned to you - big or small, glorious or not. You get printed every day. You make more money. Unfortunately, we do not have immediate openings for twelve new reporters. We can immediately hire six of you if some of you are willing to work in capacities other than reporting. In a month, possibly less, we can hire more.”
The room fell silent. They had expected her to cave.
“If you’ll wait here for a few minutes, Mr. Cuffe and I can step out and have a discussion. Then he can make some decisions and let you know where the paper stands. Mr. Cuffe?”
“After you, Miss Black.”
The two of them crossed the newsroom where everyone was seated at a desk typing away and Emily Limus was scribbling on various pieces of parchment and attaching them to owls as quickly as she could. It looked like the Prophet would be making yet another come back.
Barnabas closed the door behind them once they were in his office.
“Narcissa, I have to tell you, I never thought this would work. When you and Hermione came in at half past two with this crazy idea I thought every last one of them was going to quit but look at that! They’re working!”
“Barnabas, I’m about to make a terrible, horrible, absolutely disastrous financial decision. I’m not even going to consult with my fiancée who should rightly be furious with me about what I’m going to do.”
His face went pale. He was worried that she was going to cut her losses and walk away from the Prophet, convinced it was beyond saving. “What?” he whispered.
“I’m going to offer you the money to pay everyone’s salary for the next two months. We’re going to sign a contract that the Prophet will pay me back every single knut, with no interest at all, over the next five or ten or twenty years but, I’m going to lay this money down now. The Prophet is worth saving but, in order to do it right, we need writers. We need every single one of those journalists who thinks they’re freelance authors to settle in here and write for the Prophet. That’s going to fill this paper every day. That gives you room to move good writers to the front page and give the Senior Reporter privileges and get rid of the bad ones. That’s how you get interns and Junior Reporters in the door and grow the newspaper business.”
“Are you sure, Narcissa? You’re about to get married, can you afford that?”
“Yes. I’m sure. We can afford it. By December, the Prophet will be bringing in enough money that you won’t need mine anymore and you can start to pay me back and start looking for the next Editor-in-Chief.”
Barnabas stood behind his desk. Narcissa stood in front.
“Deal?” she asked, reaching her hand out.
“Deal,” he answered, shaking on it.
“Where are we going to put all those desks?” Narcissa asked laughing.
Barnabas just looked at her curiously. “You know there’s a second floor, Narcissa, right?”
It became obvious she did not. Narcissa joined Barnabas in offering the entire slate of freelancers positions as Prophet reporters and was pleased when they all accepted.
“May I speak with you Miss Black,” Jamison Wolfe asked.
“Certainly,” she said, indicating that they could step back into the empty conference room.
“I’m grateful that we’re all getting the opportunity to join the Prophet as full time writers. That being said, however, I wonder if it may be possible for me to sign a monthly contract as opposed to an annual contract. I just, I don’t want to be tied here for a year if I end up hating it.”
Narcissa pursed her lips and then tapped the fingers of her left hand against them, thinking. “Hmm, I understand your concern, Jamison, however, I’m not sure that a monthly contract in this type of newsroom would be appropriate. I would say, let’s start with a one month contract, if, after a month, you hate it, then, we’re done. You may leave with no breach of contract and go back to freelancing.”
“As much as I want?” He grinned a handsome little smile.
“Sure,” Narcissa smiled back, “you may write as much as your heart desires.” He smiled fully at her, stepping closer. “But the Prophet will only publish two pieces a week. If, after that first month you find that you like having a steady job and income, you may sign a three month contract. Then a six month contract. Then an annual contract. We will not sign more than one single month contract with you. A word to the wise, it may not seem like I have much experience in the business world, Jamison, but I have plenty of experience with men like you trying to manipulate me. It won’t work. Have a lovely day,” Narcissa smiled again and left him alone in the conference room.
“Ready to go, darling,” Narcissa asked Hermione when she finally made her way back to the lobby.
“I am,” Hermione smiled, “I popped over to Flourish and Blotts while I waited and picked up a book I think I’ll need to work with Professor Flitwick so don’t look so sorry for me.”
“You know me too well,” Narcissa kissed the other woman quickly. Once they were outside, Narcissa’s arm tucked into Hermione’s elbow, Narcissa leaned down a little and spoke again, “I must confess, my hand is a little bit sore. Would you mind terribly simply going back to the Manor for the evening to relax? We could get that study all set up for you while I put some ice on my hand.”
“That sounds absolutely wonderful,” Hermione agreed.
Narcissa wasted no time Apparating them outside the Manor gates and, once they had stepped inside and closed the door behind them, wrapped her arms tightly around Hermione’s waist.
Hermione returned the gesture with gusto and wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s shoulders, pressing her hand to the back of Narcissa’s head to hold her in place.
“I know I’ve said a lot about waiting until we’re married for anything physical to happen between us.”
“You have. And I’ve agreed. Having you in my arms is heaven and, honestly, I’m really enjoying the opportunity to just appreciate holding you with no additional pressure.”
“So, what I’m about to say next is going to sound crazy.”
Hermione laughed a little into Narcissa’s neck, “go ahead. Hit me with the crazy.”
“I feel gross. I feel like I have a coat of newsroom and street grit on me and I want to take a bath.”
“That doesn’t sound crazy, Cissa.”
“With you.”
Hermione could hear the blood pounding through her ears. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Still, not crazy. Just...unexpected. I don’t know how we can get in a bathtub together and not have things escalate to a more physical level than we’re ready for.”
“Well,” Narcissa kissed the corner of Hermione’s mouth, “you’ve never seen my bathtub.” Narcissa stepped back, taking one of Hermione’s clammy palms in her own and led the younger woman up the stairs, down the hall, and into her rooms.
“I’ve been in here,” Hermione said quietly.
“I know,” Narcissa answered as she silently summoned two bathrobes into her unoccupied hand. “You’ve been in here, as well.” Narcissa opened the door into the attached restroom. Hermione followed her in.
“I have. I still don’t see a bathtub.”
Narcissa pressed a circle in the design near the edge of the wall and a ring tilted out, she grasped it and used it to slide a panel door sideways one full door frame, then another, and another, and another until there was a rather large opening with a hot tub sized bath in the floor on the other side.
“Now I do. Wow, Narcissa, that’s amazing.”
“If we do this respectfully, we can keep our bodies as private as we wish and still share a bath together. Are you interested?”
Looking into the tub, Hermione saw two very comfortable looking seat wells across from each other. They could have intimate conversation and only touch one another if they chose to.
“Of course, I’m interested, Narcissa. I’m trying to decide if I have the self-control and restraint to be that close to your body.”
“Hermione, of course you do. If I look at you and say that I don’t want to do anything more physical than kiss, would you force me to do something for which I’m not ready?”
“Never.”
“There you go.”
Hermione smiled softly at Narcissa and leaned in to kiss the woman who had more faith in her than she did in herself sometimes. “How shall we do this?”
“Hmm, I’ll get the bath all set while you go into the bedroom and, um, get undressed and put your robe on. Come back when you’re ready.”
A few moments later, Hermione re-entered the bathroom with her bathrobe tied in front of her and her curly hair piled messily atop her head in a bun.
“You look adorable,” Narcissa grinned, kissing her fiancée. “Now, I’m going to go change and you can climb in and get comfortable and be under the cover of the bubbles before I get back.”
Hermione did just that, listening to the sounds of Narcissa taking off her robes, humming as she moved around the bedroom.
“Keep your eyes closed, darling, if you don’t mind while I climb in, okay?” Narcissa asked Hermione who was resting with her head back against the side of the tub. Hermione’s eyes remained closed so Narcissa dropped her robe and stepped into the almost-too-hot water, knowing it was going to hurt the bruises she had gotten earlier in the day. “Okay, darling, you can open them.”
Hermione didn’t answer.
“Hermione?”
No answer again.
Narcissa, uncomfortable and slightly worried, sat up to look more closely at Hermione. The younger woman had wedged herself carefully into the well on the side of the tub. Her head was resting on a pillowed cushion and her body arranged to keep her face above the surface...and she was sound asleep with a sweet little smile upon her face. Narcissa couldn’t help but smile in response, happy that Hermione felt so safe and cared for she could fall asleep in the bath listening to Narcissa in the other room.
Narcissa found Hermione’s hand underwater and twined their fingers together once more before she, too, closed her eyes for a little while.