On Maneuvers
The next few days, Draco met back and forth with Theo and Blaise working out the quirks of Draco’s idea and what their implementation strategy would be. Draco even saw Blaise’s house in Kent, a cozy six-bedroom ‘cottage’ with a wonderful set of gardens. But whoever this other boy in Blaise’s life was did not make an appearance.
A beautiful, crisp morning found Draco stuck in the General Gallery of the Wizengamot with not a window in sight. It was not a full calendar and the benches sat mainly empty, but the Malfoy lord had received an owl early that morning from Blaise that there may be some trouble. There was a rumor floating around that the government had some designs on the Goblin Liaison Office, and there was no better time to sneak something through then when you had an empty chamber.
Granger was there too. Draco wouldn’t doubt if she had one of the best attendance records in the Wizengamot. When the Chief Warlock gaveled the chamber into session, quick work was made of the calendar. Hearings to be scheduled, bill readings to be waived. All the while, Draco could see Blaise’s gaze sharply following the proceedings, waiting to see what the government would pull. Hailsen – if Draco could trust his interpretation of the Chief Warlock’s expression – did not seem to find anything amiss, nor did he appear to anticipate an unexpected development.
“Chair recognizes the honorable gentleman from Cumbria,” Hailsen intoned, his fist squished against his cheek.
“Mr. Chief Warlock, I move to amend the autumn expenditures bill at section A(7)(iv), a copy of which shall be provided to the clerk.” The member handed a sheet of parchment to a page as a voice from further back seconded the motion. Blaise’s eyes shot up in alarm and he flashed a look to Draco.
“Objections to the waiver of reading?” Hailsen asked rhetorically.
“Objection,” Blaise blurted.
Hailsen seemed genuinely taken aback by the objection, but recognized it and handed the amendment off to a clerk to read out the amendment. Hailsen’s frown deepened behind his close-cut grey beard as the clerk monotonously announced the contents of the short piece of parchment. It was clearly written to obfuscate whatever purpose was behind the change. Even Draco couldn’t quite discern the intention, but regardless it was clear money was being moved out of the GLO and put in some ministerial discretionary fund. That would be suspicious by itself, but the monies were still earmarked for human-creature relations. So, what was the fund for?
When the Chief Warlock opened the floor for discussion, Blaise was the first to rise, arguing that the GLO couldn’t afford another spending cut and the situation with the Goblins was already delicate without trying to actively injure the very Office tasked liaising with them. Draco felt for him, but it was a hard argument to make when the funds weren’t shifted outside of the Department, and without a clear endpoint, Blaise was hard-fought to make a distinction as to why the funds were better served where they were. On division, Draco walked with him through the nay lobby, but the amendment still passed on to the draft bill where the full Wizengamot would be able to vote on it.
Blaise looked dejected as the chamber moved on. His shoulders weren’t the straight and proud chassis they should have been. He would have to work on some of Blaise’s priorities, Draco mused. It was often hard to forget that others had dreams when you were consumed with your own.
“—the honorable member from Devonshire and Cornwall.”
“Mr. Chief Warlock, I would like to return to the state of elvish rights. The proposed legislation cannot wait—”
Ugh this woman, Draco rolled his eyes. “Point of order, Mr. Chief Warlock. This question has been referred to committee.”
Hailsen nodded once at Draco and turned to Granger with a slightly exasperated look. “Lord Malfoy is right, Ms. Granger. Your proposed legislation is now with the Committee on Creature Relations, and your point is out of order.”
“But I’m not on that committee,” Granger said outraged.
Hailsen grinned apologetically. “If the member for Devonshire and Cornwall has an issue with the committee assignments, I would refer her to the Committee on Committees.”
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Draco consoled Blaise as they left the General Gallery and entered the bustle of the Ministry corridors. His shoulders curved in and his eyes down, Blaise barely paid attention to the other wizards who swerved around him. All Draco could do was gently place his hand on the other’s shoulder for a second before he stopped and made sure the public display of affection was not caught by anyone else.
“Blaise,” a voice called out. Striding towards the two Wizengamot members was a very handsome young man with dusty, golden hair falling into his eyes, his hand out towards Blaise almost involuntarily and his brown eyes pinched in concern. Well, well, well, Draco thought smugly, no more hiding the mystery man Mr. Zabini.
And look at that, Blaise no longer looked so forlorn. The miracles never cease. “Oh Justin,” the voice was returning to its usual suave swagger. “You must have heard; it wasn’t the outcome we were hoping for.”
“Yes, one of the pages sent me a memo that the government was moving resources away from GLO. As soon as I could get away, I came down.” This Justin had a smooth voice, not deep but still pleasant to listen to. That nose too, something was niggling in the back of Draco’s mind. “Malfoy,” Justin said curtly.
“Draco you remember Justin Finch-Fletchley.” Oh right, the muggleborn. Well Draco wouldn’t call him a cheap knock-off of himself to Blaise’s face, but for the life of him Draco couldn’t remember any distinguishing characteristics about the boy – now handsome young man. That never stopped him before.
“Finch-Fletchley, you’re looking smashing,” Draco purred, giving him an obvious once over. Sure enough, it got Justin to flush unhappily and Blaise to glance to the heavens for absolution. “What is it you’re doing nowadays? Perhaps you could catch me up? One on one say?”
“Thanks, I’d rather not,” Justin bit out.
Draco laughed appreciatively and motion between the other two men. “No, I dare say you wouldn’t. You seem otherwise occupied. And I don’t mind, truly! Blondes were never my thing.”
Blaise snorted and muttered, “No kidding.” Then louder he continued, “Enough teasing Draco, come on let’s go sit down somewhere.”
They retreated to one of the alcoves off the cavernous Confederation Hall. The carveouts had no door while providing some sense of privacy and also a free look at passerby, mainly composed of uninteresting MWs and ministry workers who were allowed passed the Public Lobby. Draco settled himself into one of the benches built into the wall without bothering to put up a privacy ward. He doubted it was that kind of conversation.
“Draco, I’ll say this once: yes, I’m with Justin. We are very happy. Keep your nose out of it.”
Draco raised his hands in surrender, a grin coming naturally from Blaise’s uncharacteristic bluntness and the resulting sapping adoration that briefly stole over Justin’s face.
“I couldn’t help it Justin, if I may call you that.” At the shrugged acquiesance, he nodded gamely. “You can call me Draco. If Blaise hadn’t been so secretive before then we could’ve dispensed with all that. Plus, I suspect we will be seeing more of each other so it’s best we’re familiar.”
“It may take some time for me to get used to calling you Draco,” the ex-Hufflepuff remarked, apparently still a little suspicious. “But I’m willing to try. And you’re right, with you being one of Blaise’s oldest friends and now back on the hereditary bench, I’m sure our paths will cross more than a few times.”
Blaise, apparently satisfied the blondes wouldn’t start hexing each other anytime soon, steered the conversation back to himself, his hand never leaving Justin’s elbow. He briefly filled Justin in on the last hour’s debate and subsequent disappointment. Justin made all the right sympathetic noises to appease Blaise. Draco would have considered it a marvelous performance had he not been certain the Hufflepuff was being genuine.
Out in the hallway, a bespectacled witch with short, dirty blonde hair was rushing up to passerby and firing questions at them. Most grimaced and shook her off, but she caught one or two who weren’t quick enough to escape her. Her antics drew Justin’s attention and he scoffed. “Hag.”
“Who is that?”
“You don’t know?” Justin said incredulously.
“That’s Betsy Hart-Holloway,” Blaise interjected. “She’s a gadfly columnist with a wealthy husband and a distinct lack of taste. Though who invited her into the Hall, I have no idea.”
Draco hummed contemplatively. “Don’t get any ideas Draco. If anything, she’ll be even more predisposed against you because of who you are.”
Draco briefly contemplated demanding to know how he would cause anyone to experience feelings other than admiration and pride, but honestly, he was tired. It could be fun to play the pompous posh prince (and usually he did enjoy it) but Draco had gotten used to a level of distrust and even disgust aimed at him. It was enough to sap anyone’s strength after a while.
Justin’s eyes softened for the first time towards Draco as if he could read the melancholy thoughts swirling in his head. “Best stay away Draco. At least Skeeter had the honesty of greed. Betsy is a zealot with the fervor of a convert. I don’t see a conversation between the two of you ending well.”
That was probably sage advice. Draco didn’t need to pick additional fights right now, but if this was going to become a problem later, he needed to start thinking of ways to handle the overactive columnist.
“Listen, I have to get back to IMC. The trade deal we’re negotiating with the Imperial Diet keeps getting tangled around the tariff rates and Count Zendorf is threatening to cancel his visit to London if the intransience continues.”
“Alright Justin, go save the bureaucrats from themselves,” Blaise said, his eyes sparkling.
“As if you can talk,” Justin playfully replied. There was no kiss goodbye, not here in the Ministry. But a soft look was exchanged between the two before Justin hustled over to the lifts and back to his job.
“So,” Draco said when they were alone again. “Justin.”
“Ugh, don’t start,” Blaise groaned.
“He was considerably less hostile than he could’ve been, so I count that as a win. And he was handsome! I’m almost jealous.”
Blaise looked flattered but scoffed. “You’re forgetting one thing though . . . you’re not into blondes.”