A/N; thanks to those who have read and left a review.
This is the meeting between Joyce and Grindelwald. Grindelwald is manipulating the situation here, but when does he not?
…...+...
Joyce curled her lip at the reflection in the mirror. She'd done her best, but she would never be more than average. And as for her hair... She sighed. That was well below average. She'd had it bobbed in the hope being shorter would make styling it easier – it hadn't been a success. She had the Lovegood hair. Unruly, untameable, Lovegood hair.
Average and below average. No wonder Hank had walked out.
Joyce dabbed at her eyes, determined not to let tears ruin her eye makeup. She'd spent too long applying it and didn't have time to redo it. Was this going to keep happening all evening? Should she have even accepted Bracius' invitation?
But as her Great-Aunt Bendy Bones used to say, 'If you fall off your hippogriff you need to get straight back on. The longer you leave it, the worse it'll get.'
"First, I have to find a new hippogriff. The last one ran off." She turned from the mirror, wondering where she'd put her dress.
It was where she'd left it, hanging off the curtain rail. Joyce held it up for a critical last-minute inspection. The dress had been designed and created by Madame Malkin of 'Robes For All Occasions' and had an Anti-Creasing Charm fitted. Joyce stepped into it, pulling the fabric up over her hips and smoothing it over her breasts.
Hank had loved her in this dress.
"Oh, raging hippogriffs!" She had to stop thinking of him all the time – at least for tonight.
A loud crack from the living room, and she heard Lestrange call out, "Joyce!?"
"I'm in here!" She opened the bedroom door, to discover her friend had misjudged his Apparate and become wedged between the sofa and the wall. She hurried over to move the standard lamp and the coffee table so he could push the sofa away.
"Oh, thank Merlin!" He sounded relieved. "I thought I was in the wrong flat! Have you moved the furniture?"
"I haven't. It probably looks different because the last time you were here, you weren't stuck behind a sofa."
"Hmm." He wriggled out and gave the small room a sour look. "How can you stand living here? There's not enough room to swing a kneazle."
"Because it's cheap, and I don't have a kneazle to swing." It might be small, but she paid the rent herself. She wagged a finger at him. "Not everyone has access to their family's wealth, Bracius."
Lestrange ran a finger behind his collar. "Ah," he said, looking sheepish. "Sorry. Those galleons do come at a price, y'know?"
"You haven't done too badly from it." She softened it, by adding, "You have a wife that you love."
He nodded, going misty-eyed at the thought of his bride. "That's true, and she's eager to meet you, Joyce."
…..
Later, the three of them side-Apparated to the party. A heavily-set man greeted them all warmly before they handed their coats to a House Elf and took a glass of wine.
Then, they were taken straight to a large gilded chamber where baskets of sweetly-scented fresh-cut flowers were dotted around the room. At the far end, double doors opened onto a ballroom where a band played and couples danced. Waiters in black suits glided amongst the guests, serving wine and canapés off silver trays.
So far Joyce had seen no signs of jealousy or annoyance from Nanette at having an unexpected female guest thrust on her. Instead, the slim girl had taken her hand and kissed Joyce warmly on both cheeks.
"I'm so pleased that you agreed to come with us," she'd gushed, eyes darting constantly to where her husband stood. It was as if she still couldn't believe she was married to him. "Do you know Hubert Von Kendrick?"
When Joyce confessed that she didn't. Nanette laughed. "He won't mind you being there. I have to warn you, his parties are always stuffy and boring."
"What?" Bracius exclaimed. "Don't tell her that! She'll change her mind!"
Nanette had giggled. "At least, this time, we have a speaker and we can keep each other entertained whilst the men argue over," she rolled her eyes, "politics."
"More wine, Mademoiselle?" called a waiter with slicked-back hair.
Joyce glanced at her glass, surprised that it was empty so soon. She must have been thirsty to drink so fast. She took another glass and stepped to one side to look at a gorgeous potted orchid.
"Nanette," she called over her shoulder. "Look at this. Isn't it stunning?"
When no one replied, she looked around – bemused. Her friends were still where she'd left them and completely wrapped up in one another. Bracius trailed a finger along his wife's cheek, drawing an invisible line down the curve of her flesh, letting it fall, to trace her collarbone and dip lower...
"Oh!" Joyce turned away – feeling awkward.
She moved away, examining one floral display after another to allow them a moment alone. A towering display of tumbling held her attention for longer than the others. From the size of the flowers, they must have been grown in a magical greenhouse. Other guests were admiring the displays too and Joyce glanced back over to her friends... to see an elderly Wizard eating a smoked salmon canapé in their spot. She had a flutter of panic. She didn't know anyone else here and didn't even know what part of the country she was in.
They wouldn't have abandoned her, would they?
There were a lot more people here now – they could still be here. Joyce pushed through a group of laughing, young Wizards – ignoring their jovial comments for her to join them – hoping to catch a glimpse of Nanette's lemon-coloured dress.
A flash caught her eye. Over there! The pair were standing at the entrance to the ballroom looking about them.
"Nanette, Bracius!" Others turned to her, but her friends didn't. Not hearing her, they moved off into the ballroom and Joyce had to push her way through more guests to follow them.
She paused at the entrance of the ballroom to get her bearings and a passing waiter offered her a drink. "Oh, I have one."
He looked at her blankly and she realised she'd left her glass by the rose. "Had one," she amended, taking a glass from him and walking across to where her friends waited.
"Joyce! Where did you get to?" Bracius asked, frowning at her. "Best not to wander off. Von Kendrick knows some odd people."
Before she could reply, Nanette tugged on her arm. "Look at the ceiling," exclaimed Nanette. "Isn't it pretty?"
Hundreds of lighted candles floated above them and garlands of fairies hung from the ceiling interspersed with tiny, sparkling stars.
"Oh! It is beautiful."
"Do you mind if ask Nanette to dance?" Bracius had his hand on his wife's arm. "Look, there's Ethan Yaxley. You know him. Talk to him while we dance."
He motioned to a sour-faced blonde man. "Yaxley! You remember Joyce Lovegood, don't you?"
The pair joined the set, leaving Joyce and Yaxley alone together. She knew Yaxley. Knew him from being fourteen years old and overhearing him laughing at her being a Squib.
"I didn't expect to see you here," he said gruffly. Yaxley sounded as uncomfortable talking to her as she felt being near him.
Joyce finished her wine and snagged another glass from a passing waiter. "I have as much right as you to be here." She was no longer the shy fourteen-year-old who'd run from cruel words and laughter.
On the dance floor, Nanette and Bracius danced towards them. Bracius smiled over Nanette's head. He whispered to Nanette and his wife peeked over at her and waved her fingers before they were lost amongst the rest of the dancers.
"A fine looking couple," Yaxley was saying. "Their families made a good choice by setting up that union. No ugly skeletons amongst their ancestors."
"Mudblood skeletons you mean?" Joyce asked, annoyed. This was another reason why she'd left the magical world, too many with a stupid prejudice against anyone without the 'right' pedigree. She took a large gulp of wine. It was either that or throw it straight into Yaxley's smug, Pureblood, ugly face.
Yaxley beamed, so sure in his own beliefs that he missed her sarcasm. "Absolutely!" He side-eyed her. "You've turned out... pretty," he said grudgingly. "Have you found anyone who's willing to overlook your... disability?"
"Not yet." The devil got into her and she batted her eyelashes at him. "Are you offering, Ethan?"
Marriage to him would be her idea of Muggle hell, but she was gratified to see him splutter, wine spraying from his mouth and down his chin.
"Goodness, what a mess." She giggled – the wine was affecting her more than she cared to admit. "Do you have the shakes, Ethan?" A coy look. "Pre-poposal nerves, I guess? Should I tell my brother to expect a visit from you?"
"No!" coughed Yaxley, curling his lip, either her or the wet stains on his shirt. "I'm married! Been that way for a while. Got a second child on the way."
Joyce pouted and clasped a hand to her breast in the dramatic way she'd seen silent movie stars do. "Oh my, how disappointing. My secret crush of all these years cruelly dashed." She flung a hand to her forehead, milking it for all she was worth. "Too late. The man of my dreams, stolen from me by another girl."
Yaxley glared. Knowing he was being teased and getting angry. Joyce didn't care; she was sick of Purebloods like Yaxley. Waving what was left in her wineglass at the damp stains on his clothing – and accidentally splashing him more – she went on.
"Still, at least you're able to clean the worst off with your most wonderful magic. I heard that you were a bit of a wizz at Charms when you were at Hogwarts." Peregrine had told her that Yaxley had failed most of his OWLs. "And I suppose you have a House Elf in residence who's good with laundry and does all the magic you can't?"
Yaxley's scowl grew ferocious. She giggled again and beckoned to a waiter. "Let me get you another drink. It will make up for the one you're wearing."
"You drunken..." he broke off, shaking his head and huffing. "I don't want another."
"Well, I do!" With another laugh, she took a fresh glass. It was then that she noticed the disturbance by the doors. "What's going on over there?"
Yaxley looked up from trying to siphon wine from his clothing. "It's him, of course! Who else would cause such a commotion?" He slanted her a glance. "I'd move closer to the stage, if you want a good view. But whatever you do, don't come and stand near me." He scuttled off without another word.
"He's here!" squealed Nanette bouncing up to Joyce. Taking hold of Joyce's arm, she steered her towards the stage and forced her way through guests to be as close to the front as she could. "Bracius is off talking politics. We'll watch him together."
Joyce glanced about her, noting the music had stopped and the eager anticipation on the faces around her.
"Yes, but who is he?" Joyce asked when they stopped by a pillar close to the stage. Everyone here seemed to know who he was except her.
"Gellert Grindelwald, of course! Surely you know who he is?" Nanette whispered, her eyes fixed on the stage. She began to clap. Others were also clapping, the sound growing louder and louder as if it was being magically enhanced.
Joyce clapped, discombobulated. She knew Bracius was about to take a job at the Ministry. "Isn't Grindelwald a... revolutionary and... a wanted man?"
Nanette smiled. "Oh, yes! He's all of that and more. You'll understand best if you listen to him."
Dark smoke had begun to rise from the dragon skulls decorating the stage. It curled higher and higher, obscuring the garlands and causing fairies to scatter; it snaked lower, snuffing out most of the candles so that they were in semi-darkness. There was a loud clap of thunder, lightning flashed, and a man appeared on stage.
Joyce jumped, almost dropping her wine glass. Nanette squeaked with fright and then laughed self-consciously. "I should have remembered. Gellert loves to make an entrance."
Up on the stage, Gellert Grindelwald stood – soaking up the adoration of his audience and almost glowing. A man of indeterminable age, he wore his blonde hair close-cropped and the paleness of his colouring creating a striking contrast to his dark clothing. There was an almost military bearing about his stance, emphasised by the hussar fastenings on his great coat and his boots.
'Durmstrang,'thought Joyce. Peregrine said you could always tell a Durmstrang boy.
Grindelwald bowed low to his audience, a playful smile on his lips. When the applause showed no sign of abating, he gestured for quiet and began to speak – his voice clear with only the slightest of an accent.
"My brothers, my sisters, my friends: the great gift of your applause is not for me."
"It is!" boomed someone out of Joyce's line of vision. "They'd never clap for me like that!"
Grindelwald tilted his head in the speaker's direction. "Ah, our host... my dear friend Hubert Von Kendrick. You are indeed worthy of applause."
"Isn't Gellert handsome?" whispered Nanette, not taking her eyes off him. "They say his taste runs to men... but he won't be pinned down. Some say, he lost his heart many years ago and has looked at no one since."
"He is good-looking," Joyce admitted. Privately, she thought Gellert Grindelwald was more fascinating than handsome. Lean, elegant, charismatic, and with an unmistakable air of danger to him. No one would ever dare call him mediocre... or think he was a Squib.
Grindelwald continued, "You came here today because of a craving. A knowledge... that the old ways we have so long lived by, serve us no longer... You came today... because you crave something new, something different...
You are here because you no longer wish to live in the shadows, to scramble like a mouse into hiding...never letting the light see our magic. But, my friends... the time has come to put aside the old laws and make ourselves new ones..."
Joyce frowned.
"Those of you who say I hate, that I fight out of hatred are wrong. I do not hate the Les Non-Magiques. The Muggles. The No-Maj. The Can't-Spells."
"That's good to know," Joyce muttered to Nanette.
Nanette's fingers tightened on her arm. "You're a Squib, Joyce, not a simple Can't-Spell. There was one was in my family. They occur when the blood runs pure."
"What happened to them?"
She gave her a quick smile. If it was meant to reassure, it failed. "They... left."
It must have been a coincidence, because there was no way he could have heard them, but Grindelwald looked directly at her. The ballroom faded. At that moment, she felt as if no one else existed in the world except her and Grindelwald. Something passed between them. An awareness, a knowing, a meeting of kindred spirits or old souls.
"Muggles are not lesser," he said, his voice gentle. "They are different, they are other. Not worthless, but of other value." He broke eye contact, and Joyce felt oddly bereft as if she'd lost someone of value to her.
"My friends," Grindelwald was saying, "the time is coming for us to step out of the shadows... It is time for us to come out of hiding and join the the world. It is time for us to become one people."
Joyce blinked, his words speaking directly to her soul. If that happened... if the Statute of Secrecy ended... then her life would be so much easier! She'd no longer feel she needed to choose between the Muggle and magical worlds. She could marry a Muggle and still stay in contact with Peregrine. There'd be no more segregation, there would only be openness and honesty between everyone. She'd be...free. Free to be herself.
Someone nearby muttered angrily about Muggles, and Grindelwald stared them down.
"I am asking each of you to fight for my vision of our future. To fight for that new world. Do not do so out of hatred, or anger, but purely for our freedom. The freedom to simply be who we are in this world and take our rightful place place. Who will stand beside me in this new world?"
"Aye!" "We do!" and a chant of "Grin-del-wald, Grin-del-wald!" went up from all corners of the ballroom. Nanette was chanting along with them, clapping her hands and stamping her feet. Others raised their wands, sending streams of coloured lights up into the air.
Nanette laughed. "It's always like this at his rallies. And it's often chaos afterwards. My father took me to a few over the years."
She looked around. "Where has my husband gone? He said he'd find us when Grindelwald finished. Shall we find him? I can ask him to introduce you to Gellert. I can't promise he'll see you, so many want to spend time with him at his rallies."
They moved off. Joyce felt unsure if she wanted to meet the revolutionary or not. She gave herself an inward shake. Of course, she wanted to meet him! Not only had a lot of what he'd said resonated with her, but she'd also felt that strange connection.
They found Bracius with Yaxley and a second man called Meret Bulstrode, another Pureblood. Yaxley gave her a dirty look and pointedly turned his back on her, but Bulstrode accepted her happily and chatted away to Bracius and Yaxley about the Statute and what it would mean if it was broken.
Joyce sipped at the champagne that was now being served; listening to Nanette chatter about her gowns, the price of Acromantula silk compared to ordinary, and whether Madame Malkin's new assistants had any real talent. It was a more interesting conversation to her than Ministry politics.
"Ah, the happy honeymooners. How good it is to see you this evening."
They turned as one, surprised to see Gellert Grindelwald only feet away from them. Seen from a distance, the man was charismatic, up close... that charisma left her breathless and dazzled
As a child, her father has taken her to Cornwall. Held securely in the circle of his arms, protected from the worst of the weather by a spell, they'd watched a violent storm lash at the Cornish coast. Joyce had seen the raw power of the elements that day. She'd watched the sea tore out whole sections from the cliffs and throw itself onto the rocks breaking all in its path. Her father had told her of storms in his youth, of ships wrecked and Muggle sailors washing up – broken and drowned.
Gellert Grindelwald reminded her of that storm – wild, powerful, violent, dangerous and beautiful. It didn't surprise her that he was neither married nor taken; no one could ride the surf that crashed onto his beaches. And yet... she looked into the darkness of his soul, saw the light and the beauty, and knew many would happily die trying.
Me. I'd like to try. That surprised her, she'd always thought of herself as timid. She glanced down at her drink suspiciously. If she was lusting after Grindelwald she'd drunk too much. Hippogriffs were fine, but she would never have a chance to ride Grindelwald's waves.
And then, the man she was secretly fantasising about touched her arm. She jumped, as if she'd been electrocuted by a Muggle power supply. Her heart fluttered against her ribs like a bird beating itself against the bars of its cage.
He'd felt her start. "My apologies, Mademoiselle. I scared you."
Joyce found she couldn't look him in the face and instead dropped her eyes, to stare at his long hand resting on her wrist... long fingers... the mark of an artist or a musician.
"Oh, don't mind her. Lovegoods aren't the type who scare easily," grunted Yaxley, disliking the attention given her. "I really enjoyed your speech today, Grindelwald. Freedom for all. What about the Muggles though?" He smirked. "What are your real plans for them? They breed like cockroaches, destroy the environment with their industrialisation, and turn the countryside into an open sewer. I rarely visit the cities these days due to the stench."
"The Muggles will have a place in our new world," Grindelwald replied, not elaborating. He turned from Yaxley to Joyce. His hungry gaze searching Joyce's face, dipping lower, then back up again. "Your name is Lovegood? We have not met previously. No man would forget a beauty like yours."
Flummoxed, Yaxley gaped at the back of Grindelwald's head, and Joyce had the urge to giggle hysterically.
"Miss Joyce Lovegood, this is Gellert Grindelwald," she heard Bracius saying. "The Lovegoods are an old family who reside in Devon."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr Grindelwald." She held out a hand politely, hoping that he wouldn't ask for her current address. It felt suddenly embarrassing to reveal she lived in a tiny flat in a Muggle lower-class area of Paris.
"Enchanted. Call me Gellert." Grindelwald took her hand and raised it to his mouth. Sensitive lips brushed over her skin, shivery tingles ran down her fingers, along her arm and made warmth pool in her stomach. Heat rose into her cheeks at her strong response, and – overwhelmed with emotions – she looked away and took a mouthful of champagne.
Grindelwald clicked his fingers. "More champagne!"
"Oh no, really." Already she felt light-headed – another drink would... Her brain stammered when he took the empty glass from her hand and replaced it with a full one.
"For a toast," he said to her gently. "You cannot toast without a drink."
He raised his glass to the Lestranges. "Let us all toast the new Mr and Mrs Lestrange." He slanted a sly glance at her. "And a toast to good love."
Joyce toasted her friends and then swayed. She placed the half-empty glass on a table and fanned herself with her hand. "It's so hot in here, I feel... dizzy."
"It is warm," agreed Nanette. Her eyes darted to Grindelwald with calculation and then back to Joyce. "Perhaps you'd feel better if you went somewhere less crowded? Bracius and I will be here when you get back."
Grindelwald smiled. "I shall escort Miss Lovegood to somewhere... less crowded. That's if, that is what Miss Lovegood wishes?"
If she said no, she'd never see him again. Joyce felt certain of it. "Yes. I'd like that."
She took the opportunity to look at him as they walked from the ballroom. Really look at him. The man by her side was was... gorgeous and otherworldly, and he'd chosen to spend time with her. How much time? Was he thinking of taking this further? Her blood raced in her veins at the thought.
He smiled and she knew, she hadn't read the situation wrong. His eyes promised to lay bear her deepest, most secret fantasies and his lips promised to deliver fulfilment.
She loved Hank.
"Do you find me attractive?" he drawled, his voice honeyed.
"Hippogriff," Joyce blurted out. She wanted Grindelwald.
He blinked – surprised. "What?"
She flushed. "Er, talking. Aloud. Sorry."
She looked about her to avoid his gaze, and realised that they were in an empty corridor. Had he cast a Disillusionment Spell to deflect attention from them? She hadn't noticed, but felt relieved – it had gotten them away quickly.
"I have a room," he said quietly. "If I asked you, would you go up there with me?" He sounded unsure, as if he was having second thoughts about this – about her. Or was he giving her a chance to back out? Did he think she was too drunk to agree? She wasn't! Just a little tipsy.
"I want to wave your surfs." She frowned. "No! That's not what I meant to say! I wanted to say... I want to surf your waves."
His eyes sparkled with humour. "I am afraid... I have no idea what you are alluding to."
She blinked rapidly. "Oh, is that too Muggle? The Muggles ride the waves on boards near to my home. Some call them crazy, but it looks like fun to me."
The door to the lift slid open.
"Do you prefer Muggle men to Wizards, Joyce?"
Yes or no? She was a Lovegood. She was too honest for her own good. "It depends on the man. I mean... look at Yaxley..."
Grindelwald chuckled and looked strangely pleased. "What about me?" He stepped back into the elevator compartment and opened up his arms. There was a fierce hunger in his eyes. "What if that Wizard was me?"
Joyce didn't hesitate. She followed him into the lift. Her future decided when the lift door shut behind her.