Chapter 1
Objection
"And that's why house-elves must be released from their indentured servitude immediately," Hermione finished, tucking an unruly curl behind her ear. "This legislation is far overdue, and the basic liberties of magical beings cannot be denied any longer."
Hushed voices drifted across the courtroom, and she let her gaze sweep over the Wizengamot as she awaited their final verdict. That had gone quite well if she did say so herself. Exceptionally well, in fact. She'd presented her argument in a perfectly professional fashion, steady, composed, and not a second over one hour and forty-seven minutes, just as she practiced.
The fact that she had Minister Shacklebolt's full support didn't hurt her case either. Being a war heroine certainly did have its merits, though she would never admit it aloud. At the tender age of twenty-five, she had already made countless changes in the wizarding world. Yes, this legislation would be passed without a hitch, as long as no one objected—
"Objection," came a familiar voice from the left of the courtroom. Hermione let out a sigh and slowly turned her head to face her colleague of three years, the singular bane of her political existence.
She supposed that she should have seen this coming. He always managed to find a way to ruin her life when they were in school and he definitely hadn't grown out of that habit now that they were working together; always inserting himself into her projects and giving his unsolicited opinions. And Slytherin that he was, he waited until the very end of her argument, allowed her to get a sniff of victory only to snatch it away from right under her nose.
She folded her arms across her chest and waited — excruciatingly patiently, she might add — for him to elaborate on exactly what objection he had this time. Chief Warlock Perkins' attention snapped away from her, resting his keen gaze on the blonde instead. Hermione had to refrain from rolling her eyes.
Draco Malfoy commanded attention in every aspect of his life and the courtroom was no exception.
Regardless of what side of the war he had been on, his family had far too much political importance and connections for him to be sent to Azkaban. Throw in the fact that The-Boy-Who-Lived himself had spoken for him at his trial and he got away with little more than a warning and probation. Four years later, he was now held in high regard in the Ministry, working with her in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's drafting department and as a twelfth of the Wizengamot jury. Entitled prick.
However, even she had to grudgingly admit that he made quite an impressive picture lounging back against the wooden bench — dressed in a tailored suit and fine robes over it, his feet clad in dragon-hide shoes that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe did combined.
Everything about him screamed 'success', and to complete the whole debonair look, his cool grey eyes were framed by gold wire-rimmed glasses.
Because he just bloody had to wear gold wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like the star of some sort of depraved, erotic academic fantasy. That wasn't to say that she ever had those fantasies. That would be completely absurd.
The only thing which shattered that aristocratic image was the little boy in his arms, replacing it with an oddly domestic one. Malfoy had only just started bringing Scorpius to work two weeks ago, and she still hadn't gotten used to the sight of the baby. So when he shifted a little in his father's grip, a tuft of blond hair falling over his resting eyelids, she felt some of her irritation disappear.
Babies always had that effect on her. She couldn't count the number of times she had refrained from scolding Harry for doing something reckless during an Auror mission just because James was in the room. And Scorpius certainly wasn't any different than her godson. It was baffling that someone as infuriating as Malfoy could produce something so sweet and innocent.
She supposed she shouldn't be too hard on him, though. It must have been difficult for him to have to raise a child alone after he and Astoria split up, especially with a full-time job. It was admirable of him, really.
Then the git decided to speak again, and whatever little admiration she felt was quickly replaced with irritation once more.
"A majority of the wizarding population relies heavily on the services of house-elves," he began, adjusting his gold wire-rimmed glasses on his nose, which Hermione absolutely did not take note of. She did not. "Surely you understand that passing this legislation would mean taking away their primary source of help."
The corner of his lip curled upwards in that criminal smirk of his, and she could tell he was actually enjoying this. Well then, she might as well give him a show. Her chin tilted up. "And surely you understand that these house-elves are magical beings, not slaves. Wizards are perfectly competent at magic to be able to manage themselves without—"
"And that's exactly where you're wrong," he interrupted, and she narrowed her eyes. He knew how much she hated being told she was wrong. "House-elf magic is far superior to that of a wizard," he continued, adjusting his hold on Scorpius so that he could stand and turn to the rest of the Wizengamot. "They can perform much more complex magic than we can, without a wand, no less."
Nods and murmurs of agreement filled the hall, and Hermione took a deep breath, willing herself to think straight. It wouldn't do to fling hexes at Malfoy in the middle of a court session, no matter how good she thought his smug, pointy, perfectly-shaven face would look covered in boils.
"Yes, I'm aware of that," she said calmly, "which is exactly why their magic shouldn't go to waste on menial tasks like cooking and cleaning. House-elves have the potential to do so much more and yet, we still force them to clean up after us."
"What you fail to understand, Granger," he said, his gaze falling on her once more, "is that they aren't being 'forced' to do anything. They're used to their work — they even enjoy it."
"How would you know what house-elves feel?" she asked, making her way up to the jury box. Why was he doing this now, in front of the entire Wizengamot? He could have easily saved his concerns for when they got back to the office. These were exactly the times she wished she could read him better, but that impenetrable mask he always wore betrayed nothing.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Perkins stand up and speak, his voice amplified by the sonorous charm cast on it. "Miss Granger, if you would please stay on the platform—"
"I think I'd have a better understanding of how the creatures think, seeing as I was practically raised by them," Malfoy cut in, a pale brow raised.
"That's exactly my point." She came to a stop directly in front of him. "With house-elves around, people will rely on them for everything; even raising their own children. Wizards need to change the way they think!"
"It's how we've lived for centuries, Granger." His tone was far too amused than it should have been. "Too many families depend on their help and that cannot simply be changed—"
"This legislation would cause a revolution in the way our world works," she insisted, straining to keep her voice calm.
He clicked his tongue and leaned across the wooden railing between them, his tall frame practically looming over her. "What this legislation would cause is an outrage."
She lasted another moment before she broke, throwing all semblance of calm to the wind. "House-elves are creatures who deserve their own rights!" She pressed up onto her toes to reach his height, their noses almost touching now. "It's slavery, that's what—"
A piercing wail echoed across the courtroom, slicing through her words like a knife. She tore her gaze away from those stupid gold wire-rimmed glasses in front of her and let it land on the crying boy in Malfoy's arms instead.
Shite. Scorpius was awake.
Her heart twinged at the sight of hot tears streaming down round cheeks. In the throes of their heated discussion, — debate, more accurately — she'd completely forgotten that the baby had been sleeping. She swallowed thickly, letting her eyes drop to the floor. The hall was silent except for choked sobs and quiet hushes. After what felt like an eternity, Perkins cleared his throat.
"The next session will take place next Friday afternoon." No one moved. "Adjourned," he declared awkwardly, followed by the thump of a gavel.
Looks like my obsession— er, fondness for gold wire-rimmed glasses is out now haha. I owe peaceisalwaysbeautiful a massive thank you for all her help with this story, and an equally massive thank you to maraudersaffair for giving me such a great prompt to work with. Ningloreth is the mastermind behind this year's Dramione Duet and I worship her for it.
Updates everyday just because I can ;) Hope you'll all enjoy this silly little story with me!
