Chapter Two

I was running late. I'd been up bright and early for my morning cardio session, and before I knew it it was just after nine and I only had a handful of minutes to make myself presentable before meeting Hermione in London.

"Bollocks," I muttered around my tooth brush as I used my free hand to roll up my stockings and force my feet into a pair of unworn black pumps; how Hermione had talked me into this outfit for the occasion, I'd never know. I barely had time to spit and rinse before Apparating to the Malfoy's head office on Prince's Street.

"You are a mess," Hermione muttered as soon as I entered the foyer of the old building, my wobbly heels clicking along the slate marble floor. She immediately took my arm and pulled me into the nearest ladies' room. With a few spells she'd smoothed my hair down and vanished the toothpaste stain on the front of my blouse, and spent a decent few seconds fussing over the hem of my grey pencil skirt.

"Okay, I'm presentable, leave me alone now," I said to Hermione, batting her hands away. Hermione gave me an exasperated look before turning to the mirror and straightening the long sleeves of her dress - somehow she managed to make even maternity clothes look sleek and professional.

"Our appointment is in about ten minutes so we should head up now." I rolled my eyes at Hermione's eagerness, as though our promptness might speed things along - I didn't doubt that Lucius Malfoy would happily leave us sitting in the lobby for an hour or two… then have security throw us out for loitering.

We headed to the concierge and signed in to the building without incident, and were directed to a set of lifts that would take us to Malfoy Enterprises on the 62nd floor.

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed to Hermione once the doors of the lift slid firmly shut. "Malfoy Enterprises? Who came up with that name?"

Hermione shushed me. "Do not say that in front of Mister Malfoy." I couldn't help but roll my eyes again at her formal address - I really wasn't cut out for this brown-nosing shi-

The lift doors slid open and I was taken aback by the polished wood floors and the view of the city - it was hard not to look impressed. A serious-looking blonde witch greeted us from behind the sleek marble reception desk.

"Hermione and Ginevra Weasley for a nine-thirty appointment with Draco Malfoy," Hermione told the receptionist, and I tried to keep my expression blank as we were directed to sit on a black leather lounge, strategically placed to overlook the Thames.

"You did not tell me we were meeting with The Ferret," I hissed at Hermione once we were out of the way.

Hermione shot me a look out of the corner of her eye as she eased back on the lounge and I slouched down next to her. "For the love of Merlin, do not call him that while we're here. I thought you'd prefer Draco to Lucius."

"Personally I'd rather face off against a Hungarian Horntail than either of them, but Lucius is practically harmless now that he's under such heavy restrictions from the Ministry. Draco is a wild card."

"Good morning Mrs Weasley, Miss Weasley," a voice cut in, and I straightened to see Draco Malfoy standing before us dressed in an impeccable grey pinstriped suit, his long, silky hair pulled back as he gazed down at us with a cool expression. Hermione immediately stood and shook his proffered hand, and a moment later I followed suit, my skin barely grazing his in my effort to keep my distance. His mouth tilted into that damn infuriating smirk of his, and if I hadn't known better I might have said he looked amused.

"Right this way." He held the door of a conference room open, where a large oak table dominated the space in front of a large glass window. I took a brief moment to admire the view of the city below - it was almost as though I was flying, we were so high. "Have you been offered anything to drink?"

"We're fine," I said bluntly, sitting down at the head of the table, forcing myself not to swing around on the swivel chair. Malfoy raised a brow at me, then went to hold a seat out for Hermione to take on my right before coming around the table to take the chair on my other side. I tensed when he brought out his wand, but he only summoned a jug of water and some glasses, pouring one for each of us.

"Now, how can I help you both today?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his hands loosely clasped on the table in front of him. I scowled at how perfectly the french cuffs of his shirt poked out from beneath his charcoal grey suit; he looked every bit as sophisticated as Hermione did, and with as little effort.

Hermione pulled some papers from the briefcase she'd brought along to the meeting. "As you are likely aware, Mr Malfoy -"

"Draco, please."

Hermione blinked at him. "As you are likely aware… Draco, the Ministry of Magic has begun the process of implementing a law that will make it mandatory for all witches and wizards of a certain age to marry, with or without their consent."

"Ah, that. The Daily Prophet seems to think that this is more of a match-making service."

"Yes, well, unfortunately the Prophet is primarily funded by the Ministry." She leant across the table, pushing the papers towards him, and he picked them up and skimmed through the first few while she continued talking. "We've done some investigation into the latest bills drawn up for review by the Wizengamot, and I can assure you that's just the tip of the iceberg."

I furrowed my brow - I'd never seen any such documents before. Attempting to look casual, I leant forward and swung my chair to face Hermione, leaning slightly to the side so I could glimpse the documents out of the corner of my eye. I almost fell out of my chair when Malfoy placed the papers on the table under my nose, and I caught the slightest whiff of cologne as he pulled his hand back - it smelled expensive, like freshly minted galleons. When I glanced up at him, it was as though he'd never moved.

"This is a very interesting proposal that the Ministry has set up; clever too, basing it off the old laws and spinning it how they have. Now what does this have to do with Malfoy Enterprises?"

I couldn't help my snort at the name, and Hermione shot me a reproaching look. I tried to look innocent as I turned to Malfoy - and reminded myself not to address him as 'Ferret', in case he threw me out of the building. "Everyone knows that the Malfoys are one of the most prominent Ministry benefactors." Well, that wasn't strictly true; I'd only discovered this recently when Hermione had gone over her research with me. "And beyond the fact that this whole situation is immoral and compromises our basic rights, we couldn't help but notice that you fit the Ministry's requirements for the law perfectly."

Malfoy looked amused. "Ah, so you're here to do me a favour, Miss Weasley?"

"Ms Weasley," I corrected him emphatically, and he offered me a nod with another of those irritating almost-smirks. I knew exactly what he wanted me to say next, but the simpering 'please' stuck in my throat, so I glanced at Hermione for help.

"Draco," she said in a voice that demanded his attention, and after a moment he directed his gaze back to her. "Think of the repercussions a law like this will have; forcing people to marry won't be the end of this if it's really about the declining population. Next they'll be introducing laws about when you can have children, how many you should have... According to these documents these kinds of amendments are already being discussed by the Wizengamot. If the Ministry doesn't meet resistance from the beginning then they'll keep pushing too far, and theywill get their way eventually."

Draco leant back in his chair, his elbows tucked neatly over the arms as his brow furrowed in thought. "In typical fashion, you are correct, Mrs Weasley." I perked up at his admission; there was something about his sardonic tone that said he wasn't intentionally being a prat. "The law needs resistance."

"So you'll help us?" I asked him, leaning forward eagerly.

His mouth tightened ever so slightly. "You are both undoubtedly aware of the restrictions placed on my father after... After." He carefully pretended to straighten his cuffs, which were still perfect. "Unfortunately they extend to all the Malfoy assets, including anything I put my name to. If we try to sway the Ministry on this - on anything - I don't want to consider the repercussions."

My nails slowly bit into the palms of my hands as my fists clenched. "So, what? That's it?" I asked with a scowl. "You're just going to sit by while the ministry screws us all over? What's the point in having the Minister's ear when it's worth absolute bollocks?"

"I don't have a choice in this, Ms Weasley." I'd almost call his expression apologetic if it wasn't for the fact I knew he was an absolute wanker. "I'm as powerless as you are."

I pushed my chair back and stood, fed up. "Everyone has a choice; you're just choosing to do nothing," I told him emphatically, pointing my finger in his face, and Draco's expression hardened ever so slightly. "And I am not powerless." I picked up my handbag and stormed from the room, ignoring Draco as he looked on with that damned irritating smirk once more.

Storming out of 'Malfoy Enterprises' might have been more satisfying if I didn't have to wait for the damn lift. "Come on," I muttered, as I forcefully pushed the button over and over.

"Thank you for your time, Draco," I heard Hermione's voice behind me, and my shoulders tensed.

"Not at all," came his silky reply, then he appeared beside me, hand proffered. "Good day, Ms Weasley."

I tilted my head slightly to shoot him a withering look. "Good day, Malfoy."

Draco smirked at me again as he put his hand into his pocket, so I mashed the button into the wall some more. "Here," he said as he retrieved a small, white card and held it in front of my face. "In case I can be of any use to you both."

"No thank you," I said, glancing at the card as though it were the Cruciatus Curse. The liftdinged, the doors sliding open, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I took Hermione's hand and tugged her in behind me. To my dismay, Draco stepped in between the doors, effectively preventing them from closing, his hand still raised with that bloody card. I glared at him, clearly communicating that he should move, but he didn't budge.

I crossed my arms. Draco blinked. Hermione reached forwards, taking the card with a huff. "Thank you, Draco," she said, then with a half bow he stepped back and the lift doors slid closed. "Looks like Draco is more harmless than you thought."

"Yeah, as harmless as a Hungarian Horntail." I rolled my eyes. "'Ah, so you're here to do me a favour?' What a git."

xxxxx

Several hours later, Hermione and I stood side by side in front of the last shop in Diagon Alley. We'd hit a dead end, literally and figuratively.

"We need to regroup and try again tomorrow," Hermione said as she crossed yet another name off her list of benefactors.

I slumped onto the nearest doorstep. "We're absolutely stuffed," I said, running my hands through my hair. "That's it Hermione, that's everyone."

She gave a hesitant shake of her head. "That's not true. We just need some momentum..."

"From who? I just don't understand why no one is willing to fight this. How people just sit idly by and let this kind of thing happen." Hermione rested her hand against my shoulder, and my eyes started burning. I shrugged her off and got to my feet before her sympathy made me crack. "I think we're done for today."

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"The pub," I told her, then Apparated away with a crack.

Before I could blink, I'd arrived in the small alley beside The Forbes Hotel; one of my favourite pubs. It was quiet, just dingy enough to seem secluded instead of a major health and safety liability, and - most importantly - it was a Muggle bar.

I slid up onto a stool, and the bartender came to take my order. "A glass of the house red, please."

I dug through my handbag for some Muggle change when the drink was put in front of me, but the grizzly looking bartender shook his head, then gestured down the bar. "The gentleman requested it be put on his tab."

I looked where he was pointing with a scowl, which only deepened when I saw who it was. The 'gentleman' tipped his glass at me with a smirk before downing the contents, then made his way over.

"Can I help you?" I asked flatly, ignoring the drink in front of me as I narrowed my gaze at him, refusing to break eye contact.

Theodore Nott rested a finely-suited elbow on the bar in front of him, apparently oblivious to the sticky mess covering it. "I was about to ask you the same question."

"The day I willingly accept help from a Slytherin is the day I drop dead," I told him, then began to slide off my stool. "If you'll excuse me-"

"Wait," he said, dark brow slightly furrowed as though he weren't used to being rebuffed, then smiled at me charmingly. I wasn't going to fall for the act, but I paused anyway. "I saw you today, at Malfoy Enterprises."

I raised a brow. "And now you're bragging about stalking me?"

Nott laughed as though that was the funniest thing he'd heard all day, and the noise almost made me cringe it sounded so foreign. "Not quite. I'm an investment manager there with Draco, and you'll note that this pub is in my part of town... And it's good to keep a low profile these days, you know?"

Yeah, I thought, I know. "Investment managers, huh? I'm surprised you and Malfoy aren't partners."

Nott's laugh was a little less forced this time. "Don't be ridiculous, we're only twenty-seven."

"Oh," I said, feeling dense; but I'd assumed that the two men would have been given a free pass to the top. I picked up my wine and downed the contents.

There was an awkward pause, and I was about to attempt another speedy exit when he spoke. "What brings you here?"

I sighed with resignation, then raised my empty glass. "A steady flow of alcohol, apparently."

"Tough day?" Nott asked me, motioning for more drinks.

"Something like that."

The bartender slid two glasses onto the counter, and Nott picked up his fresh tumbler of whiskey by the rim and chinked the side against my glass. "Is it anything to do with the matter you saw Draco about?"

Nott was fishing for information, I could tell, and I briefly considered withholding it before it occurred to me I wasn't doing myself any favours. "Anything and everything," I said with a shrug. "We're trying to create some resistance to this law - the marriage law - but no one wants to fight it."

Instead of the glee at discovering this information, as I'd expected, Nott's expression grew pensive; perhaps I was wrong making such general statements. "It's tricky, you know. Most of the families with enough power to sway the Ministry are old money, which means they've either been tied down tight by whatever restrictions were imposed on them after the war, or else they just want their legacy upheld. Either way, I'm sure that's not what you want to hear."

I nodded, sipping at my drink. "It just doesn't make sense to me. Why don't people see this for what it is?"

"And what's that?"

"Oppression," I sighed, feeling ill just saying it aloud. "A denial of our basic rights. Regression, back to the dark ages when women were property to be traded and men only had few rights, provided they were of nobility." I tilted my head, seeing Nott's speculative expression. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing... Maybe," he took a long sip of his drink.

I narrowed my eyes, resisting the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "Tell me."

"Well," Nott said slowly, apparently trying to capitalise on my apprehension. "Maybe that's the problem here. Throwing an extreme result in people's faces doesn't necessarily work; sometimes you have to be sneaky and subtle about it. Emphasise the issue, but let people draw their own conclusions about it."

I scowled. "But people draw the wrong conclusions. That's how everyone came under the absolutely bollocks impression that this was a good idea in the first place."

"Think about it, Weasley. The Ministry goes about all this underhanded politicking then has the Prophet put a positive spin on it, as though the Ministry is doing us all a favour. Then they distract us from the root issue by introducing the 'Requested Arrangement' applications and people focus on that instead. Then they look for another distraction; say, household names who try to speak out against the issue and are easily defamed."

"Huh," I said, somewhat speechless, then took a long sip of my wine in a feeble attempt to hide how impressed I was by his understanding of the whole situation. "So if you're right -hypothetically - what would I do about it, then?"

"Well, first you need to forget about the Ministry's benefactors since the Ministry will push this with or without their backing, and most of them can't afford to alienate themselves. Think about cleaning up your image; seeing is believing, after all," Nott reached over and took my glass from my hands then set it down out of reach. "And you need to work on your interviews, add in some more 'I appreciate this' but 'I wonder if that' instead of putting things in terms of black and white or telling people exactly what you think. And you're still friends with Lovegood, aren't you? The Quibbler isn't the most respectable journal, I suppose, but a good enough place to start with some exposés quoting divorce and depression statistics - provided your name isn't attached to them, of course."

Maybe it was the wine talking, but Nott's points seemed sensible enough. I blinked at him. "You know, I don't think I ever gave you Slytherins enough credit."

Nott raised his glass. "Here's to your funeral."

xxxxx

AN: Okay, this chapter was quite a while coming, but I got there eventually. ;)

I know I mentioned in review replies for Ch1 that I'd go more in depth about particular issues in this chapter, but you'll have to wait a little longer before we get to them. Thanks for reading, and any feedback is appreciated!

Theo wasn't in the original draft for this, and he mostly happened by accident; I've never written him before, but I quite like him in this so you'll all be seeing more of him in future. ;)