Chapter Sixty-One: Narcissa Gives Another Interview
Narcissa invites Lavender Brown to Malfoy Manor for another interview. This time they sit in the Winter Gardens and allow a photographer in as well. The stage-managed performance is spectacular.
(i) The characters and world of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this.
(ii) Thank you to all the readers who have stayed with me through the writing of this tale. Your patience has been truly amazing and your continuing reviews are so appreciated.
(iii) See, I'm getting better at updating.
(iv) Happy New Year. May 2019 bring you the brightest blessings.
The meeting broke up soon after Bill had agreed to Floo to France with Fleur and talk over the Ginny Affair.
Each person had a task. Some had a list of people to contact and information to disseminate. Others had to keep an eye on what rumours and stories were being spread so they could put out fires as necessary. As a group, there was a solid feeling of hope. They'd won a war, but their real victory lay in that they, both winner and loser, were united against the forces of inherent Darkness.
It would have been so easy, thought Hermione, as she and Severus finally prepared for bed, for the end of the war to have been nothing but a slow, long start of another.
Instead, she had gone to look for the body of the hated, vile Severus Snape and had, because of that one action, taken not alone, or with her usual allies, but with people who she's feared, hated, mistrusted, changed the very course of her life and world. She was the daughter of Lord and Lady Malfoy. She was the wife of Headmaster Severus Snape and Chatelaine of Hogwarts. All because she'd reached out a hand, even as the dust settled and the spell induced smoke and fumes lingered in the dawn air.
Yet, because she had feared being nothing but a House-Witch after that brief, elated shared kiss with Ron, she'd taken her vaulted Gryffindor courage in her hands and approached the defeated, bedraggled Malfoys for help. And Draco, without sneer or sarcasm had taken the chance she'd offered. No, the Malfoys, the entire family, and thus the Purebloods had taken the chance she's offered.
A Mudblood and a Pureblood had tried to forge a bond, and now they had. Draco was her brother. She had Magical, Pureblood parents who loved her. That Lucius was truly her Father was beyond any doubt. Not only had he proved his love, time and time again, but he'd also gone to the hated Muggles to retrieve her biological Father for the ritual that had saved her life. Hermione had felt Cissy and Lucius shielding her in the Darkness, their souls willing to give whatever was needed so that she would be made whole again.
Hermione was tired. She was weary of thinking, of doing, even of listening to others talk and plan. But she couldn't hide away, not now. Not when sorting out Ginny and the mess they had all made of that young woman's life by not forcing her to face and deal with her own Darkness was symptomatic of the health of Wizarding Britain as a whole.
Of course, it wasn't their fault. Dumbledore should have done something when Ginny had been so influenced by Riddle in her first year. At eleven, with her magic just blooming, she'd been fertile soil for his whisperings. Harry had been the Chosen One, his mother's protective magic had cocooned him in some way from all the Darkness that had surrounded him. Even being a Horcrux hadn't allowed the Darkness to reach into his soul. But Ginny, she'd been babied, ignored, cossetted and in many ways neglected because as the youngest she'd learned from watching her older siblings, not garnering as much attention as her more boisterous brothers.
Hermione sighed and tossed about in bed trying to get comfortable.
Severus turned to her then. "Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice quiet in the dark of their fourposter.
"Can't stop my head," she said, equally quiet. "I'm so tired, but my mind is going at a million miles an hour."
She could feel his smirk as he drew her closer to his side. She snuggled into him and allowed his body heat to warm the cold that seemed to grip her.
"I don't want to talk," she said defiantly, as if he'd said anything.
She could feel Severus' amusement at her contrary statement. But he didn't tease her. He just tightened his hold on her and began to stroke her bare back in long, slow caresses. She sighed deeply. "Magic fingers," she said, her mouth close to his chest.
He chuckled, and she felt the reverberations through their close position. "I'm a Wizard," he said archly.
She couldn't help a little giggle at that. Severus always knew how to sooth her. He was her rock, her heartbeat.
"Thank you," she said, when his caresses had reduced her to boneless relaxation. "I," but she could feel him shaking his head at her.
"I can thank you," she said fiercely. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. I am so glad you're in my life, that I was lucky enough to win your love and that I was able to see who you are behind the façade and fall in love with you in return."
"Hermione," said Severus, his voice rough with emotion.
"Severus," she said, raising her face to his for the kiss she knew would end all conversation and guarantee they both found blissful sleep, eventually.
Narcissa's chief, self-appointed task had been to make sure their version of events was publicised in the Daily Prophet. Sure, Lavender would ensure page three or even four coverage of the news of Hermione being attacked by Ginny, but the spin of it had been dulled completely by Ron with it being very much expected Post-Traumatic acting-out in a safe and secure environment.
Now they wanted to make sure it was seen in yet another light, one that would allow for Ginny's removal from Hogwarts to be explained. They also wanted Hermione's quiet withdrawal from the daily pretence of being in classes to be treated as unimportantly as possible.
To that end, the next morning, Narcissa sent off a little note, written on expensive parchment in magical gold lettering, inviting dear sweet Lavender to visit Malfoy Manor for morning elevenses. They could enjoy the Winter Gardens and perhaps even allow a photographer to take some pictures of their meeting.
For Lavender this was the gift of front-page news. Her editor looked at the young gossip and society reporter with delighted glee. After the coverage of the French Embassy Ball, they had been prepared to continue discussing fashion and second-hand tit-bits. An invitation to another heart-to-heart tell-all interview at Malfoy Manor would guarantee that copies would be eagerly snapped up by Witches in remote locations, especially since news of the the Malfoys helped even international sales.
And so, Lavender rushed back to her little flat in Diagon Alley, changed into much smarter clothes, bought a new blouse on a company expense allowance and presented herself with Bozo, punctually at the gates.
Bozo tried not to peer too obviously, desperate to find a good shot that would ensure his pictures got picked up by the papers in America. He dreamed of leaving the Prophet but as the Prophet was the biggest newspaper in Britain, his ambitions could not take him further at present. And so, Lavender and Bozo were in perfect accord. They desired a scoop, and they thought they were going to get it. How right they were, but unfortunately, they were playing well out of their league.
The house-elf that led them into the Manor and then through to the Winter Gardens at the back was stern enough that neither of them lingered. The charms in and around the house meant that their glances kept sliding off things if they focused too forcibly on anything for any length of time. All the two of them saw was a haven of peace, calm and tranquillity that was also opulent and exuded wealth.
Lavender was so envious of the bitch Hermione. How had she managed to get herself adopted by the Malfoys? Lavender happily forgot all of Hermione's heroic deeds, focusing only on what she felt was clever social-climbing.
The house-elf bowed the two of them grandly into the Winter Gardens and departed. Lady Narcissa Malfoy was seated in snow covered Gardens, white roses blooming fragrant in the magically heated planters that framed her delicate, ethereal beauty. Dressed in her signature ice-blue she was a vision of silk, velvet and white fur.
"Ah, my dear Lavender", said Narcissa, smiling graciously. "So lovely of you to come so promptly, and to brink your photographer with you."
She nodded at Bozo in welcome. "Do sit my dear, and allow your photographer to set his equipment up."
Bozo was not slow in getting to work. He did not stop to question the artful way in which the photo op had been framed. Neither, did he question that the grand house had prevented him taking any other photos but those required of the interviewee.
As Lavender sat on an upright chair that perfectly matched the sofa on which Narcissa was artfully arranged, the magical charm offensive began.
House-elves in white silk cushion covers, the Malfoy coat of arms embroidered in gold work brought tea and served the delicate sugar biscuits and gorgeously iced fairy cakes. Meanwhile, Narcissa smiled graciously and began to skilfully narrate to Lavender's eager quill the story they wanted to circulate.
The task for the Slytherin was not onerous. After having lived with Bella and the Dark Lord, leading conversation and ensuring her version of events was believed was child's play with such an obviously open interlocuter. So, while she charmed and talked, massaged the truth and ensured only what was wanted was revealed, Narcissa began toying with the idea of writing a column for the newspapers herself.
It would have to appear to be Lavender's hesitant suggestion, of course. But having a weekly column would give the Malfoys a perfect way to put a spin on whatever was going on. And really, she was starting to want more excitement in her life. She had read while waiting for Lavender's arrival the latest news about the French Ambassador's Ball. She really wished she could say what she wanted about the guests who had attended.
Lavender left Malfoy Manor with a spring in her step. She couldn't believe her genius master stroke of asking Lady Malfoy if she'd like to write a weekly society column for the Daily Prophet. She knew her editor would love the idea. Anything to do with the Malfoys always boosted sales, and if they could get Lady Malfoy's column to appear on a Tuesday, for example, a generally quiet day in terms of society news after the discussions of weekend affairs, it would really push sales and circulation.
Lavender breezed into the office, a wide grin on her face. She was beaming as she poked her head 'round her editor's office door. "Have I got news for you," she exclaimed.
Barnabas Cuffe, editor-in-chief, was a little taken aback at this behaviour by the blonde. She'd grovelled and sucked up upon joining the staff, and had never shown such delight and enthusiasm after a job, not even after she'd visited the Malfoys for the interview about their adoption of the Gryffindor Princess. But he wasn't going to allow his surprise to register on his face. A consummate Slug Club member, he knew how to charm and flatter. He'd learned from one of the best after all.
"News is what we are here for," he responded while waving her into the office.
He listened, eyes blazing with triumph at the brazen hussy who had somehow managed to persuade Lady Malfoy to write a column for the Daily Prophet. If he had thought he'd have had any success he's have made this suggestion years ago. And to think they would have her, not Witch Weekly or one of the continental papers. It was a coup.
He nodded in agreement. He couldn't resist smiling broadly. "Well done, Lavender," he said in approval. "Rita couldn't have done better."
Lavender bristled but tried not to show it. She was constantly being compared to that bitch Rita Skeeter. Lavender thought indignantly that she hadn't turned into a beetle and stolen the news she had reported. Lavender had used her connections. She'd worked hard. But Lavender had to admit that until Rita had ended up in Azkaban, she had gotten the low down on all the gossip, and her books had sold very well indeed.
Lavender swallowed all that she'd thought, and smiled the fake, fawning smile she'd used on him before. "I'm glad you think so, Mr Cuffe." She allowed her enthusiasm to bubble up once more. "Lady Malfoy was so gracious. She said she's never been asked something like this and that she thought it would be a pleasure to do. She was ever so excited and was even thinking she could try it out by penning something like a commentary on the French Ambassador's Ball as an opening piece."
Cuffe leaned back in his chair and smirked. Oh, that would surely sell a few copies, no doubt about it. He wondered how the chit had managed to do it. It was a masterful stroke. He wondered he'd never considered it. He didn't know it, but Narcissa had got the idea from the Muggle magazines and newspapers Hermione has introduced her to over the summer.
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