Chapter 19
"Was that Michelangelo?" Blaise asked, and Hermione turned back towards her colleagues. Hermione nodded dumbly, still reeling from the conversation she had just had. She felt as if she'd need a week to analyze that conversation in order to unravel all of the insights he had provided her. Michelangelo had a way with words, it was true. She just wished it didn't leave her feeling so off-kilter and confused.
"Shame he wandered off already," Draco noted. "I would have loved to talk to him about his choice in using contrapposto back in the Renaissance."
Hermione chuckled ruefully. "That's probably why he left: that's exactly what he wants to avoid."
Blaise, Draco, and Odile looked at Hermione in surprise. "I deed not realize you knew 'im so well," Odile said.
"I don't. But I gathered enough from our short conversations," Hermione said.
Arnaldo returned with Pansy, who was beaming. Hermione couldn't ever recall a time where Pansy had ever looked genuinely happy: her expression had always seemed to be fixed in a permanent smirk or sneer.
"I take it meeting Elaria went well?" Blaise asked Pansy as she returned to his side.
"Incredibly," Pansy said. Truly, she was glowing. "She'd like me to send over my portfolio of designs. I may have the opportunity to work with her."
Odile's jaw dropped. As the rest of the group congratulated and wished Pansy well, Odile looked distinctly displeased. It was quite rude, really. Hermione and Blaise could tell that Draco was becoming more and more annoyed with Odile's lack of social graces and obvious envy.
"Thank you so much for the introduction, Arnaldo. This could be life changing," Pansy gushed.
"I played but a small part: only you could make the impression you did," Arnaldo said humbly.
At that moment, Stefano clinked a fork against a glass to catch everyone's attention. "Dinner will be served in the adjoining room shortly - please make your way over and find your seats!"
Arnaldo escorted Hermione to the next room, and she couldn't help but notice that her and Arnaldo's placement was very far away from that of Blaise, Pansy, Draco, and Odile. She was very near the head of the table - Stefano himself was a mere four seats away to Hermione's right. On either side of Stefano was one of his brothers and their wives. Martino and Mariella were diagonally across to the right, while Rinaldo and Gianna were seated next to Arnaldo on the same side. Immediately across from Hermione and Arnaldo were Stefano's youngest sibling, Cadenza, and her husband, Filippe. Then, all of Arnaldo's cousins were seated, ordered familially by the age of the parent related to Stefano, then by the ages between the siblings. There were too many names for Hermione to keep track of, but she knew that the ones closest to her on her left were Massimo and Mafalda, the two eldest children of Martino and Mariella. It gave Hermione a headache to try to remember everyone's relations.
After Arnaldo had finished introducing her to each of his aunts, uncles, cousins, and their relationship to him, Hermione's face hurt from smiling. It was all quite overwhelming - and that was just the family! Close family friends were seated next, and essentially at the other end of the very long table were Hermione's colleagues. Michelangelo, too, was seated at the opposite end, and Hermione couldn't hold back a stab of disappointment that she wouldn't have another opportunity to chat with him that night. He was confusing, yes, but enticingly intriguing.
"Don't worry," Arnaldo tried to reassure her as he observed her tenseness. "As a child, I had to make memory cards to remember all of my cousins and whose children they were."
Hermione laughed softly. "I can't imagine your pop quizzes."
The dinner that followed was delicious, the wine pairings superb, and the conversation surprisingly easy. There seemed to be an implicit ban of work-related conversations, and Hermione found herself quite enjoying some of the Medicis. Gianna and Rinaldo were very kind. Though she could see the telltale shine of ambition in Rinaldo's eyes, she didn't feel unnerved by it. It was earnest, with integrity. His love for Gianna was true. Martino and Mariella, however, undercut every aspect of the conversation, no matter the topic.
"Constanza is about to graduate, is she not?" Arnaldo asked his aunt, Cadenza.
"Indeed. This year, in fact. The time has flown," said Cadenza.
"I cannot simply understand how you only had one child," Mariella sniped. "I wanted to continue after the twins, but the Healers advised against it."
"And especially without any sons," Martino said, shaking his head. "Filippe, I really don't know why you didn't ask Cadenza for more. Mariella was lucky - three sons is a good ratio before she couldn't have more. Whatever will you do with your bank when you retire?"
"Even if I had sons," Filippe began, "it's possible they would have held no interest in the business. Given the Medici son track record, my son would likely be majoring in political science rather than finance."
"We're perfectly content with Constanza," Cadenza argued. "She might follow in the footsteps of her father. She's applied under economics."
Martino tsked. "Filippe, you're not seriously suggesting you pass the business onto Constanza? But when she gets married, what about the children? She'll have to drop the bank."
"That's what governesses are for," Cadenza said, glaring at her half-brother.
"Ah, but Cadenza, you know that as Mistress of the Household, you have many more duties than educating your children, well, child. Managing the decor, architecture, finances, social events, your other properties- oh, right. I'd forgotten that you sold the estates in Genoa and Verona to help with the Pluchino Bank solvency. A shame," Mariella said, smirking snidely.
"Indeed, quite similar to how pitiful it would be if Martino's campaign financing for Florence mayor suddenly evaporated," Rinaldo said thoughtfully. Filippe smirked, while Martino began to bluster.
"Are you threatening me?" Martino demanded. Stefano intervened, shaking his head.
"I'm sure Rinaldo is merely commenting on the relevance of seeing the continued success of the Pluchino Bank, as he is the one you've turned to for the remaining six weeks," Stefano said.
"Indeed, imagine if the Pluchinos suddenly went bankrupt! How frustrating," Arnaldo commented.
"Father would still win, without those resources. I'm sure of it," Massimo added confidently. Hermione thought he rather reminded her of an Italian Draco Malfoy.
That was to say, the Draco Malfoy from her childhood. Hermione's eyes drifted towards the other end of the table as she contemplated her complicated relationship with the man. She had seen flashes of his humanity, but it was difficult to reconcile his many facets.
Hermione began making a mental list of the best and worst characteristics of Draco Malfoy to help her decide whether or not she liked him as a person. On one hand, he cared deeply for his family. He felt morally obligated to repay those from whom the Death Eaters had stolen. He had invested in numerous small businesses that had been destroyed by the War and donated most of the profits to other causes. Draco seemed to acknowledge that his prejudices against muggleborns had been misguided, and admitting to her that his thinking had evolved took a certain strength of character. He was intelligent, perhaps to his own detriment.
And then there was the simple fact that he had been, and always would be, a complete prat. He was still selfish, incredibly focused on his own preservation. His words did not match with his actions. He still disparaged her. He said he respected her, and yet continued to insult her at every opportunity. What could she trust? For some reason, it seemed like Draco's actions pointed to the idea that he might be a decent person while his words confirmed his cruelty. Usually, when actions spoke louder than words, actions confirmed inner cruelty when words projected superficial decency.
Trust Draco Malfoy to turn that upside down, Hermione glowered to herself. Plus, he must have known about Blaise's mum. Hermione found herself again in turmoil over Arnaldo's revelations.
"Hermione?"
Hermione turned to the man himself, shaken out of her musings. "Yes, Arnaldo?"
"Ah, Tia Gianna was simply asking how you decided to enter the British Ministry rather than pursuing a more academic route. Your reputation for being an intellectual precedes you."
"Oh, well it was a rather practical matter. The most important role I could play after the war was in an institution capable of reforming the most bigoted laws: hence my choice to enter the Ministry."
"I see. How dreadful that you were forced into such a prejudiced society. Do you think you would've pursued a different career if it hadn't been for the war?" Gianna asked.
"Certainly," Hermione answered. "I would have loved to continue my muggle education, too. I think an academic career in muggle law would have been something of interest as well. Alas, such plans are only luxuries of a peaceful world. I had my duty to fulfill in the aftermath."
"You were but a child at the time," Gianna tsked, and surprisingly, Mariella nodded.
"Quite impressive, truly," Rinaldo said.
"But you have the time now. As I've understood it, you've done an excellent job in the Ministry with pushing critical legislation through. You could have a career change - you're still young," Arnaldo noted.
"Perhaps you ought to think about settling down, you are, after all, not very young," Mariella sneered. "Are there any men on your horizon? What happened to that red-headed boy?"
Hermione suddenly felt the weight of multiple stares: of course her love life would be of interest to the Medicis. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I, ah, well. We're no longer together."
"The tabloids were right about a split for once!" Martino laughed. "Are you with Harry Potter, now?"
"Merlin no," Hermione exclaimed. "Harry and I are the best of friends."
Arnaldo leaned closer to her. "So, you aren't currently seeing anyone?"
"No," Hermione said shortly, dreading the reveal of more of her personal life. Hermione looked at Arnaldo, noting the slight glittering in his eyes. "There's really nothing else to discuss."
"Surely-" Mariella began, but Gianna silenced her with a glare.
"I heard that your parents are dentists, is that right?" Rinaldo asked.
"Yes," Hermione smiled. "It's so refreshing to have muggle-knowledgeable conversation partners. The British prejudice is stifling - can you imagine having to explain your parents' occupations as 'tooth healers'?"
All but Mariella and Martino chuckled. "How awful, truly," said Filippe. "'Tooth healer' hardly conveys the proper prestige of their careers."
"Exactly," Hermione smiled.
"Have you ever considered something in the sciences? Medicine, perhaps?" Cadenza asked.
"Don't go on convincing her to side with Clemencio," Stefano joked. "Pharmaceuticals are surely beneath her."
"Or perhaps the reverse," Martino muttered.
"I had considered it. I think there's a lot of muggle medicine that could be integrated into wizarding healing, as there is a significant amount of cellular and molecular knowledge of which magical healers seem to be ignorant. It just didn't seem worth the many years of training at the time. I've always been focused on immediate impact, and healer training takes many years of sacrifice before I would get to that point. Instead, I've thought about a more academic direction; it would be interesting to try to understand magic on a more scientific level. I've definitely thought about perhaps studying chemistry and physics to see if I could come up with a scientific theory about magic as a form of energy and matter redistribution," Hermione said.
"I know a professor at Constanza's university that may be of use to you," Filippe mused. "If you ever begin investigating that, let me know. I'll set up a lunch. I'm sure she also has colleagues in Britain - in fact I think one of her coauthors was at Oxford."
Hermione was amazed by the casual networking that had suddenly appeared in front of her. "Thank you so much for the offer; I certainly will let you know."
Martino couldn't hold back another snide remark, and the conversation returned to familial bickering. The end of the dinner couldn't come soon enough, and Hermione was exhausted by the time Arnaldo apparated her back to Zabini Villa.
"I had an excellent night with you," Arnaldo said. "Your intelligence and spirit is unparalleled. Truly, you are a rare jewel."
"Thank you," Hermione said. "I enjoyed the night as well. I really appreciated meeting Michelangelo, and the conversation was quite lively during dinner."
Arnaldo laughed. "Lively is one way to describe it. I've typically found family functions to be rather suffocating, but family is family. It's of the most significant importance."
"Indeed," Hermione agreed.
"Perhaps this is rather forward of me, but maybe you and I could share a dinner together without the suffocation of relatives? Next Friday?" Arnaldo asked.
Hermione, though tired, still had enough alertness to be stunned. "Oh! Well, I thought… I thought you and Lynessa's assessments were still progressing."
"They are, but they will take months to finalize. Only after that will we begin dating to understand if we are a good fit. Until then, I have no ties, and if, say, I wanted to end the assessments, that could be done at any time," Arnaldo explained.
"I still think it wouldn't be the most appropriate, especially since we are negotiating two different sides," Hermione reasoned.
"You Brits," Arnaldo laughed. "So restrained, never wanting to mix work and pleasure. Nonetheless, I understand your concern. Perhaps when the negotiations are over, we may reconnect."
"Perhaps," Hermione said, not really wanting to say yes, but also not really wanting to say no. It was flattering to be desired, and Arnaldo had been quite charming.
"I knew you would keep me on my toes," Arnaldo said, smiling genuinely. "Either way, I look forward to seeing you at our next meeting." He bent over her hand and kissed it lightly. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Arnaldo," Hermione returned. Arnaldo winked at her before apparating away, presumably to return to his family home.
Hermione was halfway up the stairs when Pansy and Blaise apparated into the foyer, arguing.
"Why don't you think this is a good idea? You've been after me about becoming 'self-sufficient' and all that hippogriff shite, so this is me doing exactly what you asked!" Pansy shouted.
"I'm not opposed to the job itself or the premise, Pans. I'm concerned about the the visibility you'd be receiving. You know your parents will hear about you. They've been sending assassins every few months so they can legally transfer your inheritance to your cousin!"
"There it is, the real motivation," Pansy sneered. "You're worried that this job will mean I'll give up on fighting for my inheritance and you won't get your seven percent. It's always been about money for you, hasn't it?"
"No!" Blaise protested. "I'm concerned that I won't be able to protect you! If I were after your money, why would I be spending my money on you for security and your materialistic habits?"
"Not buying it," Pansy scoffed. "Altruism isn't a good look on you, Zabini."
"Mother of Merlin, Pans, it's not the money at all!"
"Oh, so Uncle Cascioferra has stopped extorting the family funds? You found a solution for Tazia Cascioferra, your mother, and her two hundred and thirty thousand galleon debt, have you? She's no longer looking to Kingsley as her meal ticket out?"
"That is not the situation, Pans!" Blaise argued, but Hermione was frozen on the top stair, processing Pansy's words.
Pansy had said Tazia Cascioferra. Blaise's mother was, indeed, Tazia Cascioferra. Arnaldo had been truthful. Hermione wanted to flee to her room to process, but she knew she had to hear as much of the conversation as possible rather than avoiding potentially important context. Hermione cautioned herself: Arnaldo may not be giving her the full context. But then again, neither had Blaise, Draco, or Nessa.
Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have simply asked Nessa to clarify this new bit of information without much concern, but Blaise's and Draco's training made her wary. What were the underlying connections that Hermione didn't know about? What if asking Nessa meant that Hermione wasted a valuable card in the political game? Was Nessa's family to be trusted at all? Were the Sterlings really 'making arrangements' between Lynessa and Arnaldo for show? Or was this a much more straightforward play? Why did Nessa imply that the Cascioferra family were a group of muggle mafia members rather than the clearly pureblooded wizarding line from which Blaise was descended?
The next most trustworthy person to ask would have been Blaise, yet the questions directly involved and potentially implicated him. His mother seemed to have some connection to the Medicis, and so Blaise had his own familial ties. Hermione couldn't ask him without questioning the legitimacy and impartiality of his answer. Pansy, Hermione noted, was now breaking up with Blaise, so she was out of the question, too. Emotions running high could affect the validity of the information conveyed.
That left, surprisingly, Draco. As far as Hermione knew, he and the Malfoys had no ties at all to the Medici family nor the Cascioferras beyond the friendship shared between Draco and Blaise. And just as Hermione had reached that conclusion, the man himself apparated into the foyer, looking decidedly sour.
"We're done, Blaise Zabini! You can kiss my arse and inheritance goodbye! I'm moving into Elaria Ochle's fashion house permanently, and my litigator will be in touch with you to annul the terms of our relationship!" Pansy shrieked. "FRAGOLA!"
The house elf appeared in front of Pansy. "How may I assist you?"
"Have all of my belongings packaged and sent to this address," Pansy sneered, handing the Ochle Fashion House address.
"It will be done," Fragola said, bowing once before disapparating again.
"Pans, calm down. I don't care about the inheritance. Let's talk this through," Blaise reasoned.
"You mean you'd be willing to just remove the contract we had? No inheritance, whatsoever? You'd sign the paperwork, right now?" Pansy demanded. Blaise paused, a beat too long.
"Let's not be hasty, now-" he said.
Pansy laughed shrilly, hiking up the hem of her skirt and shoving herself away from him. "That's what I thought, you snake." She climbed up the stairs and brushed past Hermione. A door slammed.
Hermione looked back down towards Draco and Blaise, the former of whom was pinching the bridge of his nose while the latter sat down with his head in his hands. Hermione swayed slightly with indecision, trying to figure out where to go and what to do in the current situation.
"A pre-nup for dating, really?" Draco finally said, breaking the silence.
"It's Pansy," Blaise said emphatically. "She doesn't trust anything that isn't legally signed and stamped."
Draco shrugged. "With her parents, can you blame her?"
"It wasn't ever a real relationship," Blaise snapped. "It was a contractual obligation for me to protect her both socially and physically, and she was supposed to pay me via a percentage of her inheritance. The relationship made sure she wasn't touched by unwanted men. I provided a service, she was supposed to provide payment."
"But you knew that her parents have been trying to remove her from the records of being their legal child. The inheritance distribution isn't guaranteed," Draco said.
"I know, and that's why I'm truthfully saying that I don't particularly care about the money. Would it be nice? Yes. Is it necessary for me, personally? No. I'm not the one in debt. It's on Mother."
"How did she end up that deep, anyways? I've always thought your mother was rather excellent about managing the estate."
"Some legal shite that's been happening apparently with a long lost uncle of mine. I don't fully understand it myself; my mother has been shielding me," Blaise said.
"It's as if you aren't an adult and directly in charge of the Zabini estate," Draco drawled.
"Don't pretend that your mother provides you the full painting as well," Blaise retorted.
Hermione felt slightly better - perhaps there was a legitimate explanation of how Tazia Cascioferra was related to the Cascioferra family that threatened Ginny's life. Hermione made her way to Pansy's room and knocked gently on the door.
"Go away, Blaise," Pansy yelled.
"It's Hermione," Hermione said. There was a short pause, and then Hermione heard the lock click open.
"Come in," Pansy said.
Hermione opened the door to reveal a beautifully decorated French suite with silver wallpaper and purple accents. The headboard of the bed was a deep purple velvet, dappled with light from the silver crystal chandelier hanging a few feet above. It contrasted with the assortment of purple and silver satin pillows and the white duvet covers that looked fluffier than a cumulus cloud. Pansy was waving her wand around the vanity, taking stock of her jewelry since she didn't trust Fragola to care for her pieces properly. Fragola's loyalty, after all, was to Blaise.
"What are you doing here?" Pansy asked as she finished inventorying a necklace and earring set of champagne colored topazes.
"I thought that I'd offer to be a listening ear if you need it-"
"I don't," Pansy scoffed.
"Or at the very least, say goodbye," Hermione finished.
Pansy eyed her suspiciously for a few seconds.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Hermione added. "I just… I know what it's like to go through trauma. My trauma is different from yours, and there's no reason to compare experiences… but I guess I'm just trying to say that I know what it feels like for the world to have less color. And there are nightmares and panic attacks and moments when you feel paralyzed but it sometimes feels a little less heavy if you know that you're not alone in the world. I may not be your first choice, but do know that if you need me, I'll be here."
Pansy looked at Hermione with no small amount of shock, her wand trembling in her grip.
"Thank you," Pansy said, her voice wavering. "I wish I had the strength to tell you, but not now, not yet."
Hermione nodded. "Whenever you're ready. Claim it on your own terms."
Pansy nodded shakily once more.
Hermione turned to leave the room, but Pansy's voice stopped her just before Hermione could close the door behind her.
"Does the world regain its color?" Pansy asked.
"After healing, it does," Hermione said, smiling sadly. "You'll see one day. How vibrant the world can be."
"I'd like that," Pansy said softly.
AN: Hello my followers! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me, despite the long update gaps. I hope all of you have been happy and healthy, as it's something we can take so easily for granted. I recently ran into a pretty crazy situation that I'm so glad I survived, and everything's okay now even though it could have gone in the very opposite direction. In exciting news, university is done for me, and I'll get to be traveling to some of the very locations written into this story within the next couple of months! I'm very excited!
Anyways, hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Any new thoughts on Arnaldo? How do people feel about the revelations about Pansy and Blaise's relationship? Who do you think is right, or perhaps each has their own unique contributions to their troubles? Thoughts on the rest of the extended de Medici family? Let me know in a review below, even if it's just to say hi since we haven't chatted for a few months!
Also, as an aside, I've been working on some Tumblr/Pinterest Board edits for this story, which you can find at crucialexa dot tumblr dot com and www dot pinterest dot com slash crucialexa slash malfoys-mudbloods-and-medicis slash (replace the 'dot' with '.' and the 'slash' with '/'). Would love your feedback, and it's a ton of fun to visualize a lot of this for me!
Talk soon!
~crucialexa