Gamesmanship
“Would the honorable lady yield for a question?”
Granger stopped, looking flustered as she stared over towards Draco at his intrusion. “No, I will not yield,” she said firmly facing back towards the Chief Warlock. Then she was right back in the flow of her speech as though Draco had not intervened.
Draco sat back down with a small sigh on the hereditary benches. The General Gallery where the Wizengamot met to discuss legislation was much brighter and more comfortable than the courtrooms they used when acting as the Law Lords. While largely composed of the ebony stone most of the Ministry had been built with, the benches were a pale wood – possibly white pine or spruce; Draco didn’t pretend to be an arborist. The benches were upholstered in a black leather, threaded into pockets with unicorn white twine. The center floor was entirely consumed with a cream rug inlaid with intricate black designs. The members in their scarlet robes sat perched like a college of cardinals against the austere backdrop.
Directly across from Draco down the rectangular chamber sat the Chief Warlock, the only member dressed in white, presiding over discussion. To the left and right were the benches for the elected members, who had no requirements on which side they chose. By custom, Ministry representatives tended to sit to Draco’s left. The hereditary benches were the smallest and had the added benefit of being able to watch debate across the house as though it were a tennis match.
The Gallery was not packed today but had a respectful turnout for the member for Devonshire and Cornwall as she harangued the poor junior minister of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. “I’ve noticed she chooses which side to speak from based on whether she’s going to criticize or defend the Ministry,” Theo whispered in Draco’s ear from behind. Or, more properly, Lord Nott while in session.
Both the Nott and Malfoy families held hereditary seats in the Wizengamot, and both Theo and Draco’s disreputable fathers were no longer living or able to take the chamber, so there the two of them sat despite their relative youth. Though not that young anymore Draco lamented privately. The war had aged all of them, thrown greater pressures on their generation’s shoulders, and Draco privately wondered if any of them looked like the mid-twenty-year-olds they were. Except Blaise, he thought. Blaise has always looked fabulous.
The dark-skinned boy currently lay lounging across one of the benches to the Chief Warlock’s left staring up at the ceiling as though bored, though his eyes would occasionally stray to meet Draco’s with a look of exasperation.
“This bill is fundamental to restoring the dignity of this enslaved class of beings whose entire existence seems to be based around bettering the lives of the very rich and giving wizards another reason to feel superior,” Granger preached.
“She talks as if she isn’t one,” Theo muttered to Draco’s coughed amusement.
“The Elvish Rights Restoration Act will guarantee the right to freedom for house elves, right of refusal for services performed, a right to severance pay, and protection against the pervasive abuse they are subjected to. It will create a grievance and appeals system within the Department of Magical Creatures which should have been in place a long time ago,” Granger said with a hard stare at the minister across from her. “The delay in action on these injustices must end now. I’m calling on this body to do the right thing or have future generations condemn you.”
She paused and looked back at her notes. Sensing his opportunity, Draco popped up and made eye contact with the Chief Warlock. “The chair recognizes the noble lord,” Gavin Hailsen said without fanfare.
“Mr. Chief Warlock, may I make a motion to refer this proposed legislation to committee where it will await a study from the Department of Mysteries on the feasibility of tracking abuse through house elf magic before returning to this esteemed body?”
“Seconded,” Theo said, lifting himself only so much that his bottom was mere centimeters above the bench before settling back down.
“Motion has been seconded,” the Chief Warlock continued ignoring the outraged expression on Granger’s face. “All those in favor. . . .”
There was a convincing chorus of “ayes” around the chamber. “All those opposed . . . .”
One very loud “nay” with a few additional mutterings reverberated through the Wizengamot. “Motion carries without division. The bill will be referred to the Committee on Creature Welfare where it will await the relevant report from the Department of Mysteries. This session is adjourned.” Hailsen cracked an ivory piece against a sound block and shot a sly wink towards Draco before he descended his perch.
Other members began to shuffle towards the exits, none of them seemingly willing to countenance Granger’s displeasure. Many heads remained low hoping they didn’t catch the bushy-haired member’s eye. Theo clapped Draco on the shoulder in congratulations and started to make for the gate out of the hereditary box.
“A skillful maneuver Lord Malfoy.”
Draco turned back with a genuine smile to the speaker. “Thank you, Lady Greengrass, it’s always nice to have a favorable reaction from the Gallery.”
The older woman raised an eyebrow in amusement as she took Draco’s arm as an escort. “Tell me Draco, when did you get back?”
“Three days ago. I only just caught up with Theodore yesterday. He’s given me a rough estimation of the current climate.”
Lady Greengrass hummed absentmindedly. “Will we be seeing more of you, dear? It’s always nice to have a good parliamentarian in the chamber to liven debate.”
Draco took the compliment with an appreciative nod. “Yes, now that I’m back in the country I expect to be much more involved.”
“That makes me glad, dear,” she said sincerely, her formal Wizengamot cloak disappearing the moment they entered the hallway and revealing a stylish A-line dress that fell to her calves. The Gallery was enchanted so that member’s robes would appear on them when the Wizengamot was in session, then melt away once they exited. Draco himself was now just in his pair of slacks and a waistcoat, indistinguishable from any other professionally attired individual bustling around the Ministry. Perhaps a bit more handsome. “Will you be seeing Daphne at all?”
“Yes, think I’ll be rather busy calling on people these upcoming weeks. But naturally I shall put Daphne first,” Draco said wryly. Daphne and he had a contentious relationship at Hogwarts, as he could admit they were both prickly individuals. Still, when on the same side of an argument, they could be a difficult pair to match. There had been some talk about an engagement between Draco and either of the Greengrass girls, but those times had long passed. Lady Greengrass laughed at his cheek and kissed him farewell.
“What is it with you and older women?” Theo asked with a puzzled look. Theo had been trailing the two of them like a towering personal guard, though he was a bit thin to do much intimidating Draco thought. A decent dueler if memory served, but it certainly was not his strength.
Draco was affronted. “I’m charming of course!”
“Mm yeah, that must be it,” Theo rolled of his eyes. “Oo watch out, here comes Granger with head full of steam.”
Draco pursed his lips at the tall man, his dark hair so very unlike his own. “I swear I’ve heard people say ‘head of steam,’ not ‘head full of.’”
“Well head of steam, full of it, or steaming, she’s charging this way with her hair so far out it’s knocking people aside as she passes them.”
Theo attempted to abandon Draco, but Draco caught his sleeve and dragged him back. “Hold on, see if you can catch Blaise and ask if he’s around? I haven’t talked with him yet. We can meet at my flat for dinner.”
“Am I invited?” Theo said with a look.
“Yes, of course,” Draco replied, slightly pink. “How else will he know where it is?” He pushed Theo down the hall just as Granger rounded on him.
“Malfoy,” she hissed, eyes blazing.
“Why Granger,” he giggled with a hint of fear. “Don’t you look . . . lathered.”
She flashed him confused face. “What? Never mind, Malfoy; What. Was. That?”
Draco settled himself a bit and squared up to her. “I believe it is called parliamentary procedure.”
“I hadn’t even finished speaking!” Granger exclaimed.
“Yes, well it had rather dragged on for a bit; particularly in the middle.” Daggers were directed his way reminding him so much of the past. She wouldn’t dream of punching him now . . . he hoped. “Really, I don’t know what you want me to say. You stopped speaking and the Chief Warlock recognized me. I proposed a motion, it passed.”
“You completely mothballed my bill! Who knows how long it will take DOM to do anything? I swear, Malfoy, you show up out of the blue for the first time in years and you use that to ruin the past six months of my life.”
Draco couldn’t quite figure out what a mothball was, but it didn’t sound particularly appetizing. Context clues and all that. Still, he sighed and lowered his head towards her. “Granger do you really think that was over our past history? Colorful though it was? Do you not think that maybe I was doing something out of a sense of conviction?”
“What conviction?” she scoffed. Ouch, maybe not unexpected, but Draco’s poor pride. “Or is it that a stratified social order and continued subservience is a worthwhile belief system in your mind?”
Now Draco was sick of this conversation. Honestly, had she swallowed a dictionary? “Look Granger, this ‘error’ of yours . . .”
“ERRA” she interjected.
“Yes, that,” he sneered, allowing a little of that colorful past to morph his face into a familiar position. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? I mean truly.”
“What’re you talking about, I’ve been through tons of research on this subject—”
“Respectfully, while the Hogwarts School Library is a wonderful repository of information, is not the only repository of information,” Draco scornfully interrupted to her disbelieving expression. “Have you ever been to the Library of Western Thought in Bonn? Or the Vivliothiki Anatolis in Constantinople?”
“It’s been Istanbul for almost a hundred years Malfoy.”
“Ugh, I hate when they change location names, it’s like they’re doing it to be overly difficult,” he pouted. Granger was not impressed. “My point is this whole bill – well maybe not the whole thing, but a lot of it – is completely misguided. House elves love to serve, it brings them joy—”
“That’s because they’ve been brainwashed to think so!” Granger interjected.
“Hmm don’t you think that seems a very humancentric viewpoint? Isn’t that you anthropomorphizing another species and attributing your belief system to them? Colonizing their values, if you will?” Draco asked mockingly. Granger simply stared at him in disbelief. “Fitzie!” he called.
With a pop, his house elf appeared next to him, startling Granger. He looked down at the elf he had known since he was a boy, dressed in a little black sundress with white polka dots. “Fitzie, would you like to be free from my service?” Draco inquired kindly.
Fitzie’s huge eyes gazed up at him and began to fill up with tears at the suggestion. “Master Draco, no!” she pleaded quietly. “Don’t let me go, Fitzie’s been with you since you were a little master.” Her hands began to clasp at his trouser legs. “Fitzie no mess up, Master, Fitzie’s been a good elf!”
“Yes, you have Fitzie,” Draco soothed. “Well, what about payment? Should I start paying you for working for me?”
Fitzie gasped. “No Master Draco don’t insult Fitzie like that! Fitzie is no cheap . . . cheap, scullery maid!” she spluttered.
“No, no. I thought not Fitzie. You see this Ms. Ganger here,” Draco pointed at the aforementioned woman. “She wants to help house elves, so I thought I would run some of her ideas by you.”
The house elf turned her bulbous eyes on Granger. Disgust filled her features as she took in the Wizengamot member. “That no sound like helping,” she said firmly. “Sounds like Miss never had an elf before.”
“Mm, quite right Fitzie,” Draco hummed, with a glance at Granger. “Last question, do you think I brainwashed you Fitzie?” Fitzie looked horrified at Draco for a second, then turned such an evil look on Granger, Draco hurriedly intervened again before any damage could be done. “Uh, a joke Fitzie. Just a joke! Why don’t you head to the flat and prepare something for later? I’ll be having two guests over for dinner.”
Fitzie visibly brightened at that and threw one more murderous look towards Granger. “Yes, Master. Fitzie making a fine dinner for them. But Master Draco no getting any apple tart! That’s what Master get for trying to give poor Fitzie money . . .” she mumbled before popping away.
Granger looked positively bewildered at that interaction. Draco tried to explain again, putting on (what he personally thought to be) his nicest voice. “Granger, have you ever heard of the French witch Gallian Martine?” Granger shook her head, still apparently stunned into silence. “She was a radical thinker of her time and decided at her death in 1847 to liberate all the house elves under her care. There were many. The sudden dismissal of dozens of house elves left them paralyzed in shock until their grief and humiliation at being abandoned led to them all killing each other in one large act of penitence.”
Granger’s eyes grew huge at that. “My God—”
“Do you know what I went to school for Granger?” Draco continued not letting her intervene. “Architecture and warding. House elves are instrumental in tying wards to the foundation of a major structure. Their magic is imbued in it. That tends to be why older buildings are the ones with house elves. Well anyway, the sudden death of the Martine elves led to a backlash of magic that collapsed Gallian’s estate. The ground was fouled and was a direct contributor to massive crop failures in Europe.”
“House elves are our partners Granger,” he stressed seriously.
“There are still too many wizards who take advantage of them,” she responded quietly.
“I know,” Draco acceded. “We agree in that they in no way should be abused. My motion addresses that! If there is a way to track an abusive household through the elves’ realm of magic then we can recover them without worrying about self-reporting. Why do you think the Wizengamot went along with my proposal? Rather self-absorbed of you to think it was about you.”
Was that final comment helpful? Maybe not, but Draco couldn’t stand her self-aggrandizing and righteousness. He didn’t mean to hex himself, however his mouth did have a tendency to run when it shouldn’t.
“Even if what you say is true, I’m not giving up Malfoy,” Granger said with a little more of her original fire back. “The system doesn’t work for them, and I’m going to make sure that changes. I’ll make them see it my way, I swear.”
“My Granger, how positively authoritarian of you,” Draco tiredly put it.
“Authoritarian? That’s rich coming from you.”
“That’s exactly my point Granger. It’s coming from me.”