Sticks and stones are hard on bones
Aimed with angry art,
Words can sting like anything
But silence breaks the heart.
~Phyllis McGinley, "Ballade of Lost Objects," 1954
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"Why would I accept help from someone who thinks I'm filth?"
For all the relish Hermione had delivered her challenge, she could not help the surprise that invaded her gaze as Narcissa Malfoy, pampered, pureblood heiress, turned her chair, bending her head over the mirror's basin and took to wringing the dark purple paste out of her hair by hand. As the violet stained her elegantly manicured hands, the witch still managed to look through the mirror in front of her and into Hermione's eyes as she sadly replied.
"I could tell you that's not true, that I don't think that way - but why would you believe me - I could tell you I feel for all the women about to enter in forced, loveless marriages, but you're predisposed to judge me by my own husbands proclivities, so it seems unlikely that would make much difference either."
The Inky drops of paste ran down her wrists and splattered onto the sparkling marble, unheeded.
"So I won't lie to you. For all your Gryffindor brash, you possess some intelligence. Where else would Severus's interest lie? I offer my help to bring this marriage law to heel because my son is being used."
Hermione continued to have her expectations shattered by the woman in front of her, who was beginning to seem more human than Hermione had ever considered.
"The ministry have sold our assets, as you may know, or at least most of those in the Malfoy name. My son has been convinced that be doing Burges' bidding, by dealing in shady backhand deals, like his father before him, and procuring a means of export for legally dubious material, the ministry will return the funds of those sales."
"And Draco believes that?"
Hermione couldn't help but notice her tone had softened. She really was sentimental Gryffindor putty in the older witches hands, it seemed.
"He's not naive. He's desperate. He thinks it's fallen on him to rebuild the family name- and accounts."
Hermione felt the pang of sympathy evaporate as Narcissa's earlier words finally resonated.
"He's purchasing greenhouses. Helping the ministry export ingredients- legally dubious, or illegal? He's helping them sources Caligula, isn't he? Hence the connection to the marriage law. Does he know? Does he know what he's peddling, what it does? Do you?"
Narcissa's hands stilled, knuckles gripped.
"Draco wasn't my first pregnancy. Nor my last. He was my only living child."
"Then how can you let him- how?"
"With his father kissed, Draco has the full power of the estate, He's the Malfoy heir." Narcissa's voice dropped to a murmur. "He won't listen to me."
"So you mean to help me. To stop the law before he can be duped. So i'm implicated instead of him."
"I may not have the power of the estate behind me Miss Granger, but I have some funds- and connections. We have the best and most discreet lawyers on retained, men I trust, and others of influence who remember what is owed."
Hermione thought back to her failed attempt at the Parisian Hospital.
"Mediwizards?"
Narciss paused,
"I do recall an old friend' husband. Then of course our own family physician, would be at your disposal."
Hermione bit her bottom lip, weighing up the risk versus reward. Was it worth embroiling herself with the Malfoys? Snape trusted them, but he had told her nothing of this - at least before she'd started shouting at him.
"So burgess asked Draco himself; offered to mis-allocate funds supposedly seized as compensation for war victims.""
"Yes. Burgess essentially owns the ministry. He could easily divert funds, or have others do so for him."
"Why is he doing this? I don't understand how it benefits him."
"I don't remember much of him from before the was. I believe he and Lucius ran in different circles, He comes from more… modest birth."
Hermione didn't bother to hide the glare she shot through the mirror.
"How can I trust you?"
Before Narcissa could respond, a knock heralded the entrance of a salon attendance at the door- and behind her, a thunderously displeased Severus Snape.
"I Apologise Madame Malfoi, I told him you were already with a guest but he- " the attendant's distressed excuses were cut short by a now viciously grinning Narcissa.
"That's fine. Come in Severus. I had thought you weren't coming."
"I realised it was prudent. I had forgotten to warn you that Miss Granger's activities involve sharing the next three months of memories with Miss Rita Skeeter."
Narcissa turned from Severus and Hermione felt a newly assessing gaze turned upon her.
"Perhaps, Miss Granger, the true question is whether or not I should trust you."
Hermione rather felt this was delivered as a compliment, not that that alleviated her embarrassment, nor explained why she could not being herself to look at Snape.
"I suppose we'll have to learn to trust each other. How will you put me in touch with these connections? I'm trying not to let my intentions be known, and as of a bout an hour ago, I find myself without a forwarding address.
"It gives me an excuse to throw a dinner party; my first of the season in the French estate. You will come and meet those who might help - and to all who question your presence, I'm mmerely introducing you to society, to aid your search for a husband."
Hermione ignored the audible scoff from the Professor now sulking in the corner, ridiculously out of place in the bright, lavishly decorated room. Narcissa grinned and Hermione flushed for a moment, hoping against hope should wouldn't resume her earlier line of questioning.
"Oh hush Severus. I'm sure your glowering will scare off and any potential suitors."
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However uncomfortable Severus felt in the overly feminine space was nothing to the burning shame he felt as Narcissa insinuated he would care about the girls suitors. It was pure reflex that launched his practiced callousness at the girl, and it did nothing to assuage his embarrassment.
"Miss Granger's new… hairstyle… will save me any effort on that front."
It didn't help that the girl hadn't so much as looked at him since his arrival - nevermind addressed him. Even now, as her face flushed and she stared daggers at the overly floral carpet, she did not deign to return the insult- as so many would given his own greasy, lank locks.
"Yes dear, while you're here you must have someone see to it. I have an account, it's no trouble at all."
"Skeeter is overseeing the selection of some ridiculous engagement style now." The girl's gaze never left the carpet and her voice was directed to Narcissa alone.
"You brought that woman here!" Narcissa's laugh was arrogantly shrill as she appraised Hermione once more.
"Severus, thank you for your well timed warning I fear I must ask you to settled the room on my account once Hermione here is finished- I don't intent to run afoul of that woman. At least before the memory of this event is relinquished. Scrap!"
With a click of her finders, the Malfor elf appeared in the room, boying lowly to his Mistress.
"Escort me home Scarp."
The Elf took his mistresses arm and without a flourish or crack, Severus found himself alone with Granger as an awkward silence fell.
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