Chapter 11
"Everyone ready?" Blaise asked. Hermione nodded, eager to start the day afresh. Yesterday's dinner had been awkward, to say the least. Malfoy had pulled back into his sixth-year broodiness, Parkinson had simpered and pouted, though her target was no longer Malfoy, but Blaise, and Blaise had been the only person interested in pulling Hermione into conversation. The only time conversation had flowed freely was over her brief summary of the important Italian laws, which still required an abundance of wine. She hoped that having something to do would prevent the same tension, though she knew that it was unlikely that she would ever, in any circumstance, feel comfortable with the Slytherins.
Parkinson grabbed Blaise one last time as he reached for the floo powder, pulling him into a sloppy, and quite loud smooch. Hermione uncomfortably shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eying the intricate marble carvings of the fireplace. She reached out to trace what appeared to be the Zabini family history, starting off as a large base of ancestors at the bottom that hoisted each of their children on their shoulders, who likewise supported their offspring until the branches finally met with a carving that looked like a young version of Blaise.
Malfoy cleared his throat loudly, looking pointedly at Parkinson and Blaise, who finally broke apart. "We don't want to be late," he said tersely.
Blaise nodded. "You'll meet us at the Ministero at midday, yes?" he asked Parkinson. She replied in the affirmative, kissing him on the cheek once more before letting him go. Blaise handed a handful of floo powder to both Hermione and Malfoy. Malfoy went first, and Hermione followed.
"Ministero!" Hermione pronounced flawlessly before the blue, not green, flames engulfed her. She caught glimpses of hundreds of other fireplaces whizzing by her, the faint smells of ossobucco or lasagna sometimes lingering long enough for her to recognize the dish. She was deposited firmly into the fireplace of the Italian Ministry, and she stepped out into a hallway composed completely of grand marble fireplaces. Malfoy was waiting at the end of the hallway, so she walked to join him, Blaise following shortly after her.
"Where are we meeting the representatives?" Hermione asked Blaise as they walked through an arch into the main gallery, the dome above the circular room decorated with gold leaf and enchanted frescoes that rivalled the beauty of Sistine Chapel. To Hermione's surprise, classically Christian scenes were depicted on the edges, bordering the central tribute to Wizarding Florence's founding mother, Iacopa.
"I believe we need to check in at the security desk, there," Blaise gestured. Hermione followed the two men to a marble counter where, to Hermione's shock, was a house elf. This house elf, however, was well off, if his slim-fitting fine wool suit was anything to go by. It was a far cry from the rags that hung loosely off the British elves and the slavery Hermione was familiar with.
"Come posso aiutarla?" the house elf asked the trio. Hermione and Malfoy looked to Blaise, who responded so quickly that neither of the other two could catch his answer.
"Un attimo," the house elf said, sending off a silvery shape that looked similar to a patronus down another hallway.
"Forgive me, I forgot," Blaise apologized once he took in their confused expressions. "Translation spells will facilitate this meeting. Eodemas linguare," Blaise tapped his wand the tops of Hermione's and Draco's heads just as three men approached them. Two of the men looked eerily similar, their skin a deep olive and their high cheekbones angled so that it only added to their dark haired mystery. One of them was clearly older than the other, however, so Hermione assumed they were father and son, who looked to be about Hermione's age. The third man was quite a bit shorter and rounder, but had a similar skin tone and the same trademark tousled dark hair, despite the grey fringe scattered through.
"Greetings," the older of the two similar men spoke, taking the time to shake each of their hands. "My name is Stefano Medici, the Italian Minister. This is my son, Arnaldo," he gestured to the younger.
"Pleasure," Arnaldo smiled, swiftly pulling Hermione's outstretched hand to his lips. His dark hazel eyes bore into her, and she nearly trembled with the intensity of his gaze. Before she could blink, however, he had already moved onto greeting Blaise.
"And I'm Clemencio Medici," the plumper of the three men introduced himself. "I'm the current head of Medici Pharmaceutical. I look forward to working with the three of you."
"Four, eventually," Blaise corrected. "We are processing a scientific advisor currently, but we expect him or her to join us shortly. Until then, you will have to do with Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger," Blaise indicated each of them in turn.
"Relation to Enzo and Emilia Zabini?" Clemencio questioned abruptly. "I was not aware they had a son."
"Nephew," Blaise answered simply.
"Ah yes, Tazia and Dante," Stefano nodded in recognition. "Your father was a good man. I was sorry to hear you and your mother chose to relocate to Britain, though I empathize with the desire for a fresh start. Give your mother my best wishes."
"My mother will appreciate your thoughtfulness," Blaise inclined his head. Throughout this entire exchange, however, Arnaldo's eyes had been firmly fixed on Hermione, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
"And what have we done to be blessed by the presence of the brains behind Harry Potter's achievements?" Stefano turned towards her.
"Live in a beautiful country, of course," Hermione replied smoothly and genuinely, noticing Blaise's grin of approval in the corner of her eye. "That and international trade law is simply too good of a case to resist."
Stefano chuckled. "I do hope we will be able to provide a fair share of novelty throughout this experience. And Draco Malfoy, the wizard who singlehandedly recovered the British wizarding economy."
"You exaggerate," Malfoy smirked.
"Do I?" Stefano eyed Malfoy curiously. "Let us convene in a more private setting than here on the open floor. Come."
The five followed Stefano down one of other hallways that had opened out into the gallery. Hermione let out a soft gasp as she took in the beautiful paintings that decorated every surface but the marble floor. There were scenes from classic Greek and Roman mythology, both peaceful and terrifying as the moving subjects of each mural portrayed everything from the Birth of Venus to the grotesque minotaur. And on the next wall, there were shimmering halos adorning the angels from incredibly Christian imagery. Hermione had never seen religion so integrated into the wizarding world before, and her neck began to ache as she craned her neck to take in the enchanted illustrations above her.
"Your decor is stunning," Hermione commented once they had stopped, pausing as Stefano opened up a conference room. "I am impressed by how much religion and mythology you've depicted here."
Stefano smiled at Hermione. "It is our history. I am glad you can appreciate it," Stefano answered as he held the door open for her. Inside, they settled in, the plush leather chairs circling around a darkly stained ash wood table.
"I trust your trip to Florence went well?" Stefano inquired.
"Indeed," Blaise answered, "thank you for asking."
"Good," Clemencio nodded. "To business, then. Have you had the opportunity to review our proposals?"
"Yes," Blaise said, pulling a few files from a deceptively thin folder. "While we will have to wait for our scientific advisor to go over the data to make sure it meets British regulatory requirements, I thought we could begin by exchanging legal information relevant to this collaboration. We may have missed some legal restrictions in Italy in our research, and you, Minister," Blaise here nodded towards Stefano, "are in the perfect position to inform us of everything relevant."
Stefano nodded. "Do you have a summary of relevant British laws?"
Hermione took that as her cue, and slid a comprehensive compilation of her legal research towards the three Italian representatives.
"Excellent," Stefano praised, and Hermione smiled, oblivious to Blaise's tightening expression and Malfoy's frown.
"Do you have a summary of relevant Italian laws?" Hermione asked.
"Not at the moment, my dear," Stefano said. "I'll have Arnaldo compile a list of laws - and he will return a summary to you by Friday. Does that sound agreeable?"
Blaise took control of the conversation again, shooting Hermione a quick look, which she caught this time. "Of course, Minister. Thank you, Arnaldo, we look forward to your thorough and detailed synopsis."
"Naturally," Arnaldo responded, his eyes still on Hermione. She shifted in her seat.
"I think that will be all for now," Blaise said abruptly, standing up suddenly. "I am sure you will benefit from your revision of British law, and we will wait patiently for your breviary of our Italian counterparts. We may reconvene next week."
"Nonsense," said Clemencio, who, unlike the other ambassadors, remained seated. "We have barely begun!"
Hermione nodded in agreement, adding, "we have indeed scratched but the surface, Blaise."
Blaise smiled stiffly, but this time, Draco interjected. "While this is true, I believe it would be best for both parties to familiarize themselves with the other's freedoms as well as restrictions. It is a rather lot of jargon to go through."
"Of course," Stefano agreed. "And the next week is brimming with celebration, too! We must commemorate one of the first international cooperations in the wizarding world. Arnaldo, do you have the invitations with you for Wednesday night?"
"Yes, here," Arnaldo pulled three ivory envelopes from his suit pocket, handing them to each of the Brits. "I do hope you come," he said in a low voice to Hermione.
Clemencio, not one to be outdone by his cousin, fumbled around his pockets until he pulled out three envelopes as well. "My branch of the family will be hosting Friday night. We would be incredibly pleased by your attendance." Stefano chuckled patronizingly, and Clemencio flushed a light shade of red.
"There will also be a charity gala hosted on Saturday, so I caution your intake of dear Clemencio's wine. Though that shouldn't be a problem, as Clemencio's tastes are… unique," Stefano laughed softly at his cousin's expense. "The details are included in the invitations."
"We appreciate both of your generosities," Blaise replied firmly. "We look forward to it."
"Good," Stefano inclined his head, turning towards the door.
With a few more thank-yous and promises to attend their events, the trio made their way back towards the floo hallway to travel to the library. Just as Hermione was about to grab a handful of powder, however, Malfoy hissed behind her.
"What on Merlin's green Earth did you think you were doing, Granger?" Malfoy said, his eyes flashing.
Hermione, instantly on guard, narrowed her eyes. "What has the little mudblood done now?"
Malfoy flinched back in shock, and Blaise intervened. "Not here!" he hissed, shoving a handful of floo powder into Hermione's hand. "Go back to the villa," Blaise commanded. Hermione obeyed, calling out the Zabini villa before the blue flames swallowed her and deposited her into Blaise's fireplace. She angrily brushed the ash from her charcoal grey robes, frowning as she moved into the greeting room. What had she done to annoy Malfoy, this time? Existing?
Malfoy was next, stepping out of the fireplace without so much as a speck of dust clinging to his robes. He glared at her, stepping aside as they waited for Blaise.
Once Blaise arrived, he glared at his two advisors.
"You never, and I repeat, never," Blaise began angrily, "lose your temper in a public setting. I do not care if Draco has murdered your parents, Hermione. I do not care if Hermione has locked your mother in Azkaban, Draco. You are professionals, and it disgusts me that I must remind you when we are already in the heart of Italy representing Britain, for Merlin's sake!" Blaise finally raised his voice at the end. "Am I absolutely bloody clear?"
Hermione and Malfoy, chastened, nodded their heads.
"We deal with all of our internal conflicts away from the public, and bloody hell, away from the eyes and ears of the Medicis! This does not happen again!" Blaise shouted.
"I apologize," said Hermione.
"It won't happen again," Malfoy stated.
"Good, or you're both fired," Blaise threatened. Hermione clenched her teeth, and Malfoy inhaled quickly. "Now, what was the problem about?"
"He antagonized me," Hermione said pointedly, "but I was no better than him in my verbal retaliation."
"No you were not, but you are forgiven. Draco, why did you antagonize Hermione?" Blaise asked.
"She gave all of our bloody laws away!" Draco snapped, fuming.
"Again, while this is true, she simply did not understand the consequence of such a seemingly innocuous action. There are ways to educate Hermione and rectify the situation, without yelling and without embarrassing our entire country!" Blaise responded sharply.
Malfoy bowed his head in acknowledgement.
"Apologize to Hermione," Blaise barked.
Malfoy gritted his teeth. "My apologies, Granger."
"Apology accepted," Hermione said graciously.
"Good, now that that's settled, Hermione, we need to address your action today," Blaise sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't see anything wrong with giving Minister Medici the summary I had created for your benefit," Hermione said, confused.
"The issue lies with the fact that they are the Medicis, and as you noticed, very powerful. I assure you that right this moment, they have their best lawyers on the case, attempting to interpret and find every potential loophole in all of the laws you provided, quite thoroughly in fact. Notice how they did not provide us the same courtesy, despite the fact that they asked us. When you receive the summary this Friday, expect there to be crucial laws and details missing and certainly meanings obfuscated. The problem here, Hermione, is we no longer have legal leverage. And we need every bit of leverage we can get," emphasized Blaise.
Hermione's eyes had widened with each sentence of Blaise's explanation. "I'm so sorry.. I didn't know-"
"It's all right-" Blaise began.
"No," Malfoy interrupted. "It's not all right. Do not mollycoddle her, Blaise."
Blaise sighed again. "It's not all right, but we are early yet in the game. As a positive, Hermione will be more careful in the future, yes?"
Hermione nodded vehemently.
"And they will expect Hermione to be the weakest link - we can use that to our advantage."
"She's a woman, of course she'd be the weakest link," Malfoy commented snidely, only to be thrown against Blaise's wall with the sheer force of Hermione's nonverbal magic.
Blaise had jumped to his feet, pointing his wand towards Hermione. "Hermione, don't."
Hermione, shaking with fury, slowly let her wand arm drop to the floor, Malfoy crashing into Blaise's plush carpet as she did so.
"I suppose I shouldn't have thought that a prejudiced bigot would be anything but also sexist, chauvinistic pig," she hissed. "I hope you never encounter another strong woman in your lifetime, Malfoy. Merlin forbid your fragile ego be shattered by a female's accomplishments."
Malfoy, now rubbing his sore neck that had been suffocated slightly under the force of Hermione's spell, simply glared at the infuriating witch.
"Enough," Blaise snapped. "Draco, I will personally Crucio you if you purposefully offend Hermione one more time. Hermione, for Salazar's sake, get your temper under control!"
Hermione nodded stiffly, breathing deeply to calm herself. "I apologize for my mistake in giving away our leverage, and in future meetings, I will wait for your verbal indication of what I should do, Blaise. I will also do my best to not let Malfoy infuriate me."
"Apology accepted," Blaise nodded. "Draco?"
"I will keep my tongue in check," Malfoy said begrudgingly.
"Am I your bloody father, Draco? Apologize to the woman!" Blaise yelled, finally losing his temper.
"I am sorry for purposefully inciting you, Granger," Draco bit out.
Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. "Both of you, floo to the library in Florence and research. Hermione, create your own summary of relevant Italian laws. I am sure you know to be thorough and detailed, because we cannot expect the Medicis to offer us the same favor. Draco, research the entire family trees of Stefano, Arnaldo, and Clemencio Medici. I want to know everything about them - all of the scandals, rumors, successes, failures. Everything, Draco. Since we ended our meeting earlier than expected, you both have two hours for additional research before we meet Pansy in Milan. We'll review what you both discovered after the shopping trip. Understood?"
Hermione and Malfoy murmured their assent, and Blaise dismissed them.
"And stay the fuck away from each other. I prefer actual progress over maimed advisors!" Blaise said irritably.
Draco groaned as he pushed yet another family tapestry diagram aside, burying his hands in his hair. He'd had enough Italian lineages and scandals to last a lifetime. It had proved fruitful, however, as the current head of Medici Pharmaceutical had only a few years prior been involved in a bitter bloodbath. He chanced a glance towards where Granger was sitting at the far end of the table, her nose deep into some large, dusty tomes. She was chewing on the end of her quill, on pausing when she found something worth scratching on parchment. Draco mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile. Despite the war and the last five years, she still had the exact same study habits. It was oddly calming to know that some things stayed steadfast in a sea of change.
Draco cast a quick Tempus spell to determine the time, and was pleased to note there were only a few minutes before he and Granger were due to meet Pansy and Blaise. His thoughts drifted to his mother's letter from the previous night, and he grimaced, huffing in frustration. His mother wanted to parade him in front of all of the eligible French witches like a bloody peacock. For Merlin's sake - her subtle suggestion that he return home over the weekend to meet a charming lady by the name of Odile Richelieu was nauseating. Draco was almost certain that her name literally meant Wealthy and Rich.
Draco didn't even know how to respond to his own mother.
He started gathering up his notes, tapping the newspapers and books with his wand to send them back to their respective locations in the Florence Library. When he had finished clearing his space, Draco glanced again over at Granger, shaking his head at her hunched-over posture and her complete obliviousness to the time. He cleared his throat not once, but three times in order to get her attention.
She glared at him, annoyed that he had interrupted her careful research. "What Malf-"
"It's time. We'll be late," Draco said simply, cutting her off. Granger's eyes widened, and she hurriedly began sweeping her notes into her bag, tapping the books twice with her wand and watching them fly off the table to find their places amongst the shelves.
"Ready," she said stiffly once she was packed. They strode out of the library, settling on the marble steps in the front as they pondered what to do next.
"Do you have a portkey for Milan?" Granger asked him.
"No," Draco shook his head. "Perhaps Blaise expects us to reconvene at the Villa, first?"
Granger shrugged, her frizzy hair now escaping her bun. Draco frustratedly wanted to charm it all back in its place - how could she bear to present herself like this to the general public?
"Let's," Granger suggested. She held out an arm - her left arm to be exact, the one his crazy aunt had carved into while Granger screamed and bled out onto his floor - the same floor he had played on with his toy drago-
"Fine," Granger snapped, startling Draco out of his flashback. "I suppose if the mudblood germs are too much for you-"
"Granger-" Draco began, but she had already apparated away. "Bloody insufferable Gryffindor," he cursed under his breath before, too, apparating.
Draco found himself in the foyer of the Villa, where Granger was already stomping up the stairs calling Blaise's name.
"Granger!" Draco called, rushing up after her. "Granger!" He had an odd sense of deja vu as she spun around, her hair flying wildly again out of its normally perfect bun.
"I thought you would have had plenty of exposure to my mudblood existence for the day," she snapped, eyes sparking with anger.
"For Salazar's sake stop calling yourself that," Draco retorted sharply.
"What's it to you?" Granger shouted.
"I-" Draco paused realizing now that he had nothing to say to her. Well, nothing that wouldn't sound hypocritical and ridiculous considering his past colorful vocabulary.
"Thought not," Granger said, was that disappointment in her voice? and proceeded to clamber up the remaining stairs.
"I panicked," Draco blurted out suddenly, and she paused, her right foot on the very last step. He cursed himself internally - why oh why did he say anything?
She turned back to face him, slowly, her left foot pivoting. She looked at him now, inquisitively.
"Your arm," Draco gestured gruffly. "I- Aunt Bella. Sorry."
She tilted her head, and he shifted his weight to his left foot, feeling uncomfortable under her analytical gaze. Draco cleared his throat, looking now at his feet.
"I don't understand," Granger said softly, and Draco's head snapped up to look at her. "You say you have respect for me, and then belittle me. You say the most prejudiced, horrible things, and then you panic about my arm." She rolled up her sleeve - bloody hell, it hadn't even been bare - and held her forearm out to him. The word mudblood was still clearly etched, the scar tissue lumpy and white in its raised relief. Draco shuddered, her piercing screams still echoing in his mind.
"It's hideous, I know," she muttered. "It's part of me: a constant reminder."
"I'm sorry," Draco choked out, hollowly. "I wish I could've stop-"
"No, I wouldn't wanted you to have," Granger waved him off. "You had no choice."
"That's not true-"
"Your mother would've been tortured and Avada'd. You would be dead," Granger said firmly.
Draco's mouth hung open slightly, shocked.
"I'm bitter," Granger said finally after a long pause. "I'm sorry. You haven't used in it in a while, and I appreciate that. Even when you're insulting me purposefully, you avoid it. I've noticed. It just… doesn't leave me."
Draco sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth as he pushed up his sleeve on his left forearm, too. Granger's eyes widened, taking in the faded Dark Mark, still contrasting sharply against his pale skin.
"Trust me, I know the feeling," Draco finally said.
"As touching as this I show you mine, you show me yours is," Pansy's nauseatingly shrill voice squeaked, "we have shopping to do."
AN: Hello everyone! Apologies for the huge gap between updates. This past semester was incredibly rough, and I encountered a nasty bout of writer's block when I attempted writing this winter break. Luckily, I've gotten past it, just in time for you all before I start my next semester! I'm hoping you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry we haven't yet gotten to shopping yet. That was my initial plan, but somehow it just felt like the characters had reached a tension point that needed some emotional upheaval. I also desperately wanted a Dramione moment, which, as I confess the plans for Dramione are purposefully slowly paced, it was good to develop it more.
Please review! I miss hearing from all of you, and I'm sorry I'm so slow! How did you like the political maneuvering with the Medicis? Speculation about the potential scandals? Did you like the Medici characters? Do you think Arnaldo should go for Hermione? Did you think Draco/Hermione's outbursts were too much? Too little? Did you like the Dramione development? Too little/too much? How do you guys think I should write Odile Richelieu? I haven't decided if she's going to be an entitled, snobby bitch or if she'll be a sweet but boring airhead. Even if you have barely any time, please drop me a quick note to say hello! Miss you all!