Draco managed to get into the lift just before the door closed.
"Sorry, Minister," the short, plump witch manning it said. "Didn't see you coming. Floor?"
"Level three."
He had been reviewing the latest report on the murder of Neal Patel when a very smug Blaise dropped by his office to share the extraordinary news that Nicholas Dennings, owner of the Daily Prophet, had just walked into the meeting of the committee for the regulation of the press. Blaise had reason enough to be smug. Dennings had to be feeling pretty nervous if he chose to dignify them with his presence.
The committee for the regulation of the press — known colloquially as the Lansing committee after the judge chairing it - was working on new legislation concerning the establishment of a regulatory body to monitor the media. In a rare display of unity, both the Wizengamot and the office of the Minister felt that wizarding newspapers — namely, though not exclusively, the Prophet, but most specially the Prophet, and most definitely the Prophet — were in dire need of guidelines more conductive to responsible journalism or, failing that, anything worthy of that name.
All main wizard publications in the country had sent representatives to the committee, including the Daily Prophet, and Dennings could not be liking the sound of the reports he was getting back if he chose to make an appearance himself. He did not usually choose to mingle with the riff-raff.
Everyone but Dennings and Judge Lansing stood when the Minister for Magic walked in. Draco motioned for everyone to sit back down and took the seat Creevey had just vacated next to Weasley.
"Please, do not let me interrupt," he said. "I came only to listen. Carry on."
A lanky young clerk glanced over to Judge Lansing, who nodded, and he resumed the monotone reading of the document in front of him. Draco did not even try to pay attention to the words, his complete focus on the older wizard sitting across the table from him. Nicholas Dennings was a portly man of advanced years, who might have looked grandfatherly if not for the direct, almost disconcerting way in which tried to stare down everyone he met. His unwavering gaze was now fixed on Draco, who stared back with unabashed unconcern. He had looked in the face of Lord Voldemort, and slept under the same roof as Bellatrix Lestrange. He refused to be intimidated by a glorified paper boy.
The clerk, who was still drawling on about the intricacies of the work still ahead of them, almost jumped out of his chair when Dennings's powerful voice boomed next to him.
"Minister, let's just cut to the chase," he said. "I am a busy person, and I'm assuming you must be too, so let's stop wasting each other's time and just solve this issue, man to man."
Judge Jane Lansing raised an eyebrow at that, thoroughly unimpressed, but Draco smirked. "What can I do for you, Mr Dennings?"
"You can put an end to this farce. This sort of committee has no place in a modern democracy. The wizarding community will not look kindly on an executive bent on stifling free speech."
"We have no quarrel with free speech, sir." Judge Lansing pushed her spectacles higher on her nose. "It is enshrined in law and there it will continue. But the right of the press to free speech does not preclude an individual's right to privacy, nor the right of the public to be informed in a responsible and truthful way."
"That's rubbish, ma'am, if you'll forgive my saying so. It's not the place of the government to dictate to the press what constitutes responsible reporting."
There were rumours of agreement from the other members of the press around the room.
"That may well be, sir," Draco said. "But it is the place of the government to ensure the press does not use its position to harass, coerce and intimidate."
There was nothing friendly or warm in Nicholas Dennings's smile. "Minister, if I meant to harass, coerce or intimidate, I would not be sitting here having this pleasant exchange of ideas. I would instead point out that if you mean to pursue this inadvisable course of action, the Prophet will not sit idly by. And we can make your life very difficult."
Judge Lansing was not a tall woman, but she seemed to gain a few inches as she sat up straighter, her expression stormy and forbidding. "Do you mean to threaten us, sir?"
"Merely warn, ma'am."
"Your warnings might have been more effective," Draco said, "if you hadn't already been making our life quite difficult these past few months. As things stand, I am rather unimpressed."
"Perhaps I might impress you more, Minister, by sharing with you the very interesting story I've just recently heard about the Senior Undersecretary's parents." Draco felt more than saw Ginny stiffen on the chair next to him. "It's great stuff. Front page material."
Draco's fingers coiled tighter around his wand, the curse he would not say burning the back of his throat. He badly wanted to wipe the smug grin off the man's face, but he wasn't enough of a fool to do it in a room full of journalists and a judge.
"Everyone out who doesn't answer to 'your honour' or doesn't work for me," he said instead. Dennings knew what he knew, but there was no reason to give anyone else a scoop.
The young clerk looked from Draco to the judge as if wondering exactly what "work for me" meant. Did it mean people who worked on Level One? People who worked for the Ministry? But Judge Lansing worked for the Ministry, and the Minister had singled her out, so did that mean he had to leave? Or should he stay and take notes? He didn't know. He didn't know and it was giving him anxiety. Judge Lansing put him out of his misery by waving him away, and he hurried out of the room before someone else's ambiguity could throw him into another spin.
In the end only Draco, Judge Lansing, Creevey, Weasley and Dennings remained behind. Nicholas Dennings was looking so self-satisfied that Draco wondered that there was enough room in such close quarters to accommodate both him and his ego.
"That was a very sensible decision, Minister," the old man said.
"Do not misunderstand me, Mr Dennings." Draco leaned forward. "I just did not want an audience when I told you that the next time you threaten me or any of my people, they will find your body in a ditch." Judge Lansing cleared her throat and shot him a disapproving look but did not intervene. "Do not think for a moment that you can use the Grangers to blackmail me. When Hermione Granger was fifteen years old, she trapped Rita Skeeter in a jar for a week. She does not need me to protect her from the likes of you. Go after her or her family, and one day you'll wake up to your empire in ruins, and everything you love turned to ashes." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Actually, do go after her. I'd rather like to see that."
Dennings was no longer smiling. "Do not think you can scare me, boy. Your father never could, and I'm not afraid of his whelp either. There's been plenty of stories I've been dying to run. How do you like the one about the Minister for Magic who was cuckolded by the woman who now runs his government?"
It was all Draco could do not to draw his wand. Judge Lansing placed a calming hand on his arm.
"Thank you, Mr Dennings," she said, "for so clearly illustrating to me the vital importance of the work of this committee. And I will personally suggest to the Chief Warlock that a new committee be launched for the sole purpose of investigating the Daily Prophet. Trying to intimidate public officials might be commonplace in the circles you move in, but I do not hold with such things."
"I would strongly advise against that, ma'am."
"No doubt you would, Mr Dennings." The door opened and two Aurors walked in. "Aurors Sadoski and Porter will escort you off the premises. Good day to you, sir."
Dennings pushed his chair back, giving them all a murderous look before following the Aurors out.
Draco knew it had been a stupid move even before the door closed behind Dennings. Satisfying, but stupid. Going around picking fights with the Daily Prophet was never smart.
"Well, I have to say that was far more exciting than our usual meetings," Ginny said, gathering her scrolls.
"Don't think so hard, Minister." Jane Lansing got up, patting him once on the shoulder. "I can hear you worrying from here. He'll print, what he'll print. The Ministry will carry on."
It was easy for her to say so. Judge Lansing was as dull as a doorknob. She had no family, few close friends, and no interests besides the law and her collection of miniature centaurs. It was easy for someone like her, with no skeletons in her closet, to stand up to someone like Nicholas Dennings. Draco had plenty of skeletons in his.
"Do you want me to set Moody on him?" Ginny asked as they walked back to Level One. "'Cause that boy knows how to make bodies disappear."
"What I want is for you to keep quiet about this," he said, wishing he too knew how to make bodies disappear. "Same goes for you, Creevey."
Both readily agreed to keep the meeting to themselves, so naturally Hermione was at his door not an hour after. Draco took one look at her distressed expression and made a mental note to have Weasley thrown into Azkaban.
"Do you need something?" he asked, turning his attention back to the letter he was writing. He couldn't remember the last time she had been in his office. They had taken to avoiding each other at the Ministry, both trying very hard to pretend everything was fine by making it abundantly clear that it was not.
Hermione closed the door and walked up to his desk, placing a rolled up scroll on top of it.
"What is this?" he asked, glancing at it.
"My letter of resignation."
His quill paused on the parchment, a small pool of ink forming around the tip. He looked up at the witch without touching the scroll, and Hermione looked back at him, all distress replaced with determination.
"You are not resigning." Not if he had anything to say about it.
"Yes, Draco, I am."
He put the quill down. "Since when are you scared of the likes of Nicholas Dennings? I can handle him."
"I'm not afraid of Dennings." She crossed her arms over her chest. "But I won't be the stick he uses to beat you over the head with. There's too much history here. You know it as well as I do. Too much he can use."
"I don't care." He would teach Dennings not to mess with a Malfoy.
"You don't care now. You will once your ratings start slipping again. I'm sparing you the trouble of having to fire me later."
He got up so abruptly his chair almost fell back. "What have I ever done to deserve that? You think I would fire you over my ratings? Exactly how much of an ass do you think I am?"
Hermione had the good grace to blush at that. "Spare me, Draco," she said anyway, holding his gaze. "You're not exactly indifferent to ratings."
It was as if she had slapped him. For a moment he couldn't feel anything, and then he could feel nothing but rage — rage at Dennings and that rag he called a newspaper, rage at Lansing and her lack of concern for the vitriol of the press, and rage at Hermione, always Hermione, who he had once swore would never be in a position to hurt him again. More fool him.
"Suit yourself," he said, forcing himself to sit back down. "I accept your resignation. Please clear out your office today. I don't want to see you here again."
She nodded without replying. For a moment it looked as if she mean to say something else, but then she turned and left, taking with her all his anger and leaving nothing in its stead but emptiness. The offencive scroll burst into flames the moment she disappeared from sight, and Draco picked it up by the other end, holding it until the fire got too close to his fingers. He relished the pain for a second — a pain that was physical and tangible and real — before letting go of the parchment.