The years after the war were interesting, and while not as eventful as the war time, there was plenty to keep everyone, Narcissa included, occupied.
Narcissa, for what it was worth, used her new-found freedom from the expectations of the Malfoy name to return to learning - an excellent student in Hogwarts (if not a little selective about what she bothered putting her energies towards), she chose the area least expected, the area most foreign - the muggle world. She had taken hours to wandering their world, simply walking about and observing the similarities, the differences. She spent days at a time locked in their libraries, reading their histories, as rich and blood-filled as any of the Wizarding world (And sometimes, because of the Wizarding world). She met people in the Ministry, and more importantly, outside the Ministry who had taken notice of her attentions, who helped exchange her gold to Pounds, helped purchase clothes more suitable than her traditional gowns and robes. They introduced her to Professors and Philosophers and Writers and people in general, Muggle allies who would guide her through their world in return for education about hers. It was on such an exchange, a night at the Ballet on the arm of an unsuspecting friend of a friend that she had crossed paths with Hermione Grainger-Weasley.
It was then, not much of a surprise that she ran into the woman on the lifts the following day.
Her life worked like this, she had discovered, it always had, as long as she could remember. An unknown path would revealed itself slowly and mysteriously until she could connect the clues and realize what she's being shown. At times, she wondered if there were traces of Oracle in the Black family lineage.
When Gavin Underwood suggested re-introduced the two of them in hopes of gaining Hermione's assistance and influence in their plans, she realizes that in some way, she and this young woman were bound together in some manner. The Muggle Liaisons office has been languishing since the restructuring of the Ministry - with the lowest amount of contact between the Ministry and the Muggle Leaders since the formation of the department. Help was needed, and the Muggle men seemed to respond so positively to Narcissa and her…natural charms that it wasn't long until she was approached (hypothetically) to gauge interest. There was the matter of her past - and while her son was eventually forgiven, Narcissa was tied to both her husband and her sister. There was understandable hesitance on putting forth a Malfoy (even a former one) to manage and influence Muggle relations. It seemed only natural that they would seek out the influence of the most recognizable Muggle. But as she watches Hermione (not yet her Mione) through the meeting, Narcissa suspects that perhaps this wasn't the best tactic? There must be better ways than this to lobby for a role than this, despite what Gavin said, but neither of them had found it. Hermione was uncomfortable. Everything about her screamed it. Her back straight, her chin out, her hair all about her, daring anyone to challenge her - all of this posturing and this fear because of her.
"Thank you Gavin, for the introduction," She interjects, deciding to take control of the situation before it derails completely. "Ms. Grainger,"
"Weasley." She corrects.
"I'm sorry, I was under the impression you went by your maiden name at work."
"I do, I just - you were saying?"
"I know this is a bit out of the blue," She continues, trying not to smile at the younger woman's fluster. "Perhaps we can go out for a walk and we can discuss it a little more…casually?" She rises. She has learned more than a thing or two from her mother and Lucius about how to lead others to get desired results. Leaving little room for rejection is one of them. Hermione rises, half out of instinct and half out of manners.
They say their goodbyes and before Hermione knows it, they're outside Gavin Underwood's door. Together.
"I don't see why we need to talk."
"Gavin is brilliant, but like most men, a little too eager." Narcissa begins, leading Hermione slowly down the hall, "I thought it may be better if we get to know one another a little better. Tell me, did you enjoy the Ballet last night?"
"How did you know I was at the Ballet?"
"I was there, a few seats behind you and to your right." The lifts appear and they begin their journey. "Personally, I preferred the Paris Opera Ballet's production a few years ago but… here we are!" The doors open to reveal the lobby of the Ministry and they step off. "Shall we go for a bit of a walk?" Narcissa asks, not waiting for a response before doffing her robes and magicking them into her pocket. "You're in muggle clothes." Hermione states.
"Well yes, I find it easier to get about in them than my robes." She admits, smoothing down the front of her tailored maroon pants and black silk blouse. "We can stay here though if you'd like?"
"No, no…" Hermione begins, fumbling to get out of her own robes, "We can go out."
"Excellent. Have you eaten yet?" Hermione shakes her head no. "I have the perfect place in mind then." She offers her arm, gallantly, "Shall we?" Hermione takes a moment and looks at her, really and truly looks at her. In that moment, Narcissa feels as if her very soul was being watched, categorized, judged. And it's in that same moment, Narcissa feels a faint spark in a long forgotten corner of her spirit - then the sudden rushing wind of herself and her companion as they Apparate out of the lobby and onto the streets of Muggle London.
They land gently, as if they did no more than stepping from concrete to carpet, in a Soho side street. "You alright?" Narcissa asks.
"Yes, just - that was a little more gentle than I expected." Hermione shrugs. It's funny how the buzz and bustle of muggles seems so foreign to Hermione now. "You might be the brightest witch of your age, but I have been told I am not without skill myself Mrs. Weasley." Narcissa teases. "This way."
She leads them out onto the street, where they blend in immediately - or, Hermione thinks to herself, as much as someone like Narcissa can blend in. There's an air of the regal about her, in how she holds her head up, her shoulders back. Perhaps it wasn't all Malfoy superiority, but some of Narcissa's own character. "This has become one of my favorite places in the city." The older woman admits, leading her to a white building. It's clean and modern, trust-worthy in that way that only restored building have. They are confidant in themselves, they are knowledgable in what they are and are not. She wonders if she is thinking too much about this, it is just a building after all. She walks past Narcissa opening the door for her and gazes about. She tries not to look like a tourist. She tries not to think it's sad that she's now a tourist in her own city. Instead, she takes in the tasteful decor, the tasteful people, and the tasteful woman who brought her here.
"Ms. Black - how are you?" A young man greets her, coming up to them and smiling.
"Excellent Peter. I hope you don't mind, I don't have a reservation, but we were in the neighbourhood…"
"Not at all - it's a quiet day." He guides them through one room then another and another, each with it's own wallpaper and color scheme until they reach a nearly empty room, grey and white patterned paper on the walls and sunlight streaming in. He seats them by the window, and smiles when she thanks him for remembering. "It's my favorite table." She explains, unfolding her napkin, "I've spent more hours here then I care to admit. Jonathan, the bartender -" She motions past Hermione, "Is a history student and has been incredibly helpful." She smiles at the younger woman. "I can't tell if you'd like for me to stop talking, or if you'd like for me to continue. A sign towards one or the other would be helpful."
"I don't know yet, actually." Hermione tugs at the hem of her shirtsleeve. She tries not to be startled by a waiter pouring them both a bottle of wine. "I expected to eat lunch at my desk, not in a restaurant in -" She drops her voice to a whisper "muggle London with Narcissa Malfoy."
"Black."
"Black." Hermione corrects herself.
"Well, thank goodness for the unexpected and unpredictable." Narcissa raises her glass in the form of a toast, and after a moment, Hermione does the same. "To the unexpected and unpredictable." She repeats before they sip. "How did they know? About the wine, I mean?"
"As I said, I come here…often." Narcissa smiles.
The wine helps and slowly Hermione begins to reciprocate Narcissa's efforts in keeping the conversation going. And by the time their meal is finished, it's not effort but a genuine exchange of words and thoughts. By coffee, they realize it's been hours since they've left the Ministry and by sherry, they realize it's nearing dark, and their quiet room is no longer quiet, but filled with the din of other diners.
How did that happen? Hermione thinks to herself.
Narcissa quickly pays and leads them back outside and back to the alley. "Do you miss it?"
"London, proper magic-less London?"
"I wouldn't call it magic-less, but yes, London."
"I suppose." Hermione shrugs, "I try not to think about it. It's not mine anymore."
"Well, if you ever want to visit, or someone to visit it with…" She smiles.
"I…will keep that in mind. Thank you Narcissa. For lunch and for the offer." And she means it. "Shall we?"
"You go ahead, Hermione. I think I'm going to stay a little longer. It's a beautiful night."
"It really is." There's a wistfulness in her voice. As much as she wants to stay, she has a home and a husband who is likely worried about her. "Well…Good night." There's an awkward moment, then Hermione steps forward and hugs the other woman quickly and lightly. She steps back and quickly apparates home.
"Good night." Narcissa whispers, before turning around and wandering the streets of Soho.
The sun is gone, and people are out, in groups and in pairs.
Like Hermione tries not to think about London, she tries not to think about her companion's company, and how for a few hours… She smiles and forces her mind to think of something new, something different.
They never did get around to talking about the Muggle Liaisons office.