Chapter Text
"MAYBE YOU WANT ME. Desperate little slag, you are. Always finding an excuse to put your hands on me.”
Jasmine’s mouth soured with the bile that climbed up her throat. It would have been so easy for her to pucker her lips and spit it onto his mouth — let him know just how foul his words tasted.
She took a step closer to him. His smell heightened in her nose. Some awful, expensive cologne, like lemongrass and mint, and it was very difficult not to gag. She saw the flicker on his face. The brief, minute widening of his eyes, the creases scoring between his brows, and it made her lips tilt up into a sadistic curve. Her nose tilted up towards his, her hand flattened atop the counter, and her toes flexed to push her height up a couple inches.
Her proximity made his lashes — pale, always incandescent — bat. He leaned away with a dramatic dip of his spine.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy snapped, fearful gaze briefly flickering to her lips. “I’ve got standards. I’d sooner castrate myself.”
Oh, not if she did it to him first.
Her smile grew at the thought. Wee little Malfoy, running around precisely as dickless as his personality suggested.
She tilted her head, watching the side of his face carefully as she whispered, “So then why did your mother just ask me to date you?”
It should not have been possible for skin as pale as his to drain any further of color. Had he been a kinder, better person, she would have worried for his health. She would have taken his pulse, had she not known exactly what a soulless, bloodthirsty vampire he was. His translucent gray eyes, previously focused on her face, grew distant without darting away. Malfoy’s lips parted wordlessly, and that twist between his brows grew as though she’d pressed her fingers there and turned his skin.
“What?” he whispered, incredulous. His expression was a new sort of hideous. Warped into angry confusion.
Behind her, she could feel his lackeys’ watching closely. She’d long become accustomed to that hum of magic. A wand or two drawn at the ready, moments away from blasting her with whatever creative hex or jinx taught only from a Pureblood family’s magical lexicon. They’d surely pull her very soul from her body and toss it aside like a used sock if they did not fear imprisonment. Or, more likely, public scrutiny.
“Why. Did. She. Ask. Me. To. Date. Y —”
“What the fuck do you mean,” he interrupted, loudly now, and in a brusque statement rather than a prodding question. His every look, movement, and utterance was a contemptuous, expectant demand.
Jasmine felt her eyes twitch involuntarily. “I don’t know how I could possibly dumb that question down further for you, Malfoy.”
His hand rose between the two of them. She went slightly cross-eyed watching him elegantly fold all his fingers down but one, like a swan adjusting its feathers. That same slender, offensive middle finger that had jabbed her hardly days ago was now fast approaching and —
There it was, forcefully pushing against her forehead. She fell back on her heels and took a step back just as the front door jostled open with a loud jangle. She gave Malfoy one last scathing look, dragging her eyes down his figure and lingering on his unimpressed face before whipping around. The small sound he made told her that the ends of her hair had struck him, and her scowl eased just slightly.
Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the store with Remus right behind her.
Remus’s shoulders were tense as he surveyed the surroundings. His gaze lingered on Blaise’s outstretched wand and Astoria’s tightly clenched fists. It then fell on Malfoy behind her, hardening slightly before turning to Jasmine. His gaze did not soften. But he tilted his head by a degree or two, and his mousy brown hair fell out of the way to expose the scar cutting through his eyebrow.
The sight of it made Jasmine release a gust of breath. She knew what he would say.
Why do you always fight, Min?
Weren’t people meant to do the things they were best at? Something about comparative advantage; something she’d learned in last year’s Commerce of the Wizarding World section in History of Magic. “Learned” was a loosely applied verb.
“Ah,” Mrs. Malfoy began plainly, entirely unperturbed by the scene she’d interrupted. “There you both are.”
Malfoy’s shoulder jostled against Jasmine’s as he stepped forward from behind her.
“What is going on?” he asked with far more calm than he had displayed to her.
Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes flicked to Blaise. Then to Astoria. The two witches made eye contact, and her lips turned up into a tight, practiced smile.
“Not here.”
─
Jasmine was sitting in the corner of Madam Puddifoot’s in the very booth she’d stormed away from hardly thirty minutes prior.
She was slouched at an angle so precarious that Molly Weasley would have been aghast at the sight. Luckily, Remus, who was sitting beside her, tended to keep his spine similarly curved. His posture was not a reflection of his mood so much as his bodily aches and generally tired disposition.
Her arms were crossed tightly in a way that pushed her chest down uncomfortably and felt sharp at the pits, but she didn’t care. She continued glowering with her chin pointed out the window where the two Malfoys were speaking.
She couldn’t hear anything from her spot, of course, aside from the pop music playing from a radio on the counter, the sound of metal spoons stirring in ceramic tea cups, and the giggling chatter of young couples and gossiping coworkers on their lunch break. The waitress was zipping between tables on pink rollerskates that made an awful noise against the tile. She was holding a large teapot that somehow poured the correct tea for each near-empty cup.
Still, she watched the two of them closely, eyes squinting like she was hoping to find the Golden Snitch hovering between them.
Jasmine knew what hushed tones they spoke in. As though she could somehow hear them. Or, as though they feared a passerby would listen in. Mrs. Malfoy never tilted her face up despite the five or six inches her son had on her. She hardly gestured or moved as she spoke. In fact, even her lips barely moved from their flat line. She lifted a hand from her side only once to press it to her son’s arm. It was a gentle gesture, but it seemed to provide him little comfort.
He too spoke and moved with practiced, unimposing temperament. Limiting his gestures to flicks of his wrist and the occasional unsettled crossing of his arms.
Still, as people walked by on the path beside them, heads turned to glance at them both. Old or young, witch or wizard, they snuck glances at the Malfoy pair. Some, perhaps, because they recognized them and were curious. Some, likely, because they wondered what a pair of Veelas were doing in Hogsmeade of all places.
But where others saw hair spun from sun rays and eyes glittering with diamonds, Jasmine saw teeth whittled to points, sharpened by years of cruelty. When her vision blurred from waiting too long to blink, she swore she saw leather wings sprouting from their backs.
And though he tried desperately to maintain that dispassionate, blasé attitude that somehow managed to have many of the girls in Hogwarts swooning at his ankles, Jasmine knew his anger more intimately than most did.
She saw how his tendons flickered in his throat as he took an aggravated breath. She his eyes narrow just barely, and one of his nostrils tensing in a way that drew his lip up for only a second. She saw how the point of his chin swayed this way and that as he hinged his jaw like he always did in his disbelief. And she did not know how when others looked at him, they didn’t see that raw, repellent hatred that had threaded between each fiber of him.
“Let’s leave,” she said bitterly.
“If you want,” Remus quipped simply. He lifted his tea cup and took a sip. He seemed displeased with the taste. “I think it would be better to simply get this over with, though. She will not relent. Not until you hear her fully.”
“Hearing her makes my ears bleed.”
“They look alright to me.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “Remus, you must be joking. You heard what she asked of me! She said —”
Her mouth snapped shut at the sound of the door opening with a chime much sweeter and higher than the noise from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or Spintwiches Sporting Needs. The noise set her nerves alight, though, and her jaw cricked involuntarily.
She didn’t bother sitting up as the two slid in. Narcissa first, across from Remus, then her precious little boy second across from Jasmine.
He looked utterly dejected. Or, as much as his stiff, inhuman features allowed him to appear. Though he leaned his head back against the back of the booth, his eyes were cast down onto the table, watching the steam rise from his cup.
“Well, then,” Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat, glancing between Jasmine and Remus. “Where did we leave off?”
Jasmine cleared her throat. She snarked, “You said ‘I want for you and my son to engage in a relationship.’ And I asked ‘What?’ And you said something about compensation, but I already got up and left at that point.”
Her eyes flickered. “Yes, that does jog my memory, Miss Potter, thank you.”
“Sure.” She then turned to look at Malfoy with a faux sweet smile. “It’s honestly heartwarming, Malfoy, the lengths your mother will go for you to be happy.”
His mouth opened with what was surely going to be an uninspired remark about Jasmine’s personal lack of a mother, but his mother spoke first.
“Precisely.” She took a sip of her tea and exhaled. “Allow me to clarify what it is I ask of you.” She set the cup down with the sort of elegance that felt as though she’d deliberately practiced that very simple motion in solitude to perfect it in the public eye. “I am not proposing romance. Not affection. Certainly nothing private.”
Jasmine took a sip of her tea only to wash away that bile that had risen once more. She snuck a glance to Remus, but his gaze was hardening ahead.
“This would be a publicly-facing courtship. One year only, strictly for appearances. Despite its facade, it would be a deal of business,” she continued, one long nail tracing the rim of her cup. Her eyes briefly slid over to her son, and something Jasmine couldn’t recognize flickered in them. “Not romance.”
“A year.”
“Yes.”
“That is a rather long time to professionally date someone you hate,” she said blandly, staring holes into Malfoy’s long face.
His jaw clenched in a way that made the thin shadows under his cheekbones quiver. He still wouldn’t look at her. His pale, cowardly gaze remained fixed on his untouched tea. His hands, folded on the table, were still except for one betraying twitch of his littlest finger. He could feel her mentally tugging his fingernails out. She was sure of it.
“It would be very carefully arranged by a coordinator. Only precisely as much intimacy as necessary to convince the public eye of your relationship.”
“Intimacy?”
No amount of warm tea could subdue the cold dread bubbling in her chest.
Malfoy’s eyes snapped up at that as well, though only to look at Mrs. Malfoy with what was perhaps the clearest show of fear she’d ever seen him wear.
“Mother,” was all he said, but he was ignored.
“As I said, only as much as will be required to —”
“I have to — what — hold his hand?” Jasmine sputtered, her eyes growing wide and her spine finally straightening. She sat several inches taller now, the space between her shoulder blades aching in protest. She turned to look at Remus for support, but he didn’t seem nearly as surprised as she.
Then, despite herself, she turned to Malfoy. Surely, he felt just as scandalized as she did. Surely, he would say something stupidly self-important (“I won’t allow you to.”), and she could retort with her usual irritation (“Right. Because I’m simply begging to be allowed the privilege.”).
But he just sat there, his gaze fixed on his mother. They were blue, his eyes. She supposed they always were, but, then, they weren’t always. Maybe it was all the gold and peachy embellishments in the tea shop, but they were much more blue than usual. Blue like ice, slowly melting as he seemingly realized his resolve was not nearly as meaningful as his mother’s.
He shook his head. A small, discouraged movement, and he returned his distant gaze to the table. Whatever conversation the two of them had outside had taken away the majority of his usual acidity.
Remus’s hand came to her back with a gentle, comforting rub of his thumb in a circle. His arm then fully wrapped around her shoulders, allowing her to lean back against the cushion of it.
“Yes,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Yes, you will have to hold his hand. You will have to embrace him. Kiss him.”
“That’s —”
She cut herself off before something crass enough to surprise even herself spilled out. She turned her head away abruptly, a curse muttered between her lips, and closed her eyes tightly. It took a few seconds before she was able to quell the surge of rage in her rage.
When she opened her eyes again, her nails had torn holes in the cheap fabric of the seat beneath her, revealing the foam cushioning. She swallowed thickly as she forced her fingers to fall limp.
Remus leaned over and murmured, “You haven’t actually signed anything yet, love.”
Right. He was right. Merlin, Remus really was always right.
There was no sense in hexing everyone in the shop because of Mrs. Malfoy’s words when Jasmine wasn’t even actually bound to them yet.
She exhaled sharply, nodded, and looked back up. Mrs. Malfoy seemingly knew better than to wait for Jasmine to finish her outburst.
“You would be compensated handsomely, of course, in whatever form is most suited to you. A vault deposit.”
Useless. She was turning eighteen soon, and her entire inheritance would finally be available to her. More than enough to take care of herself and Remus for the rest of their lives.
“Land.”
To, what, frolic?
“Political leverage.”
She nearly laughed at that one.
“Career placement.”
Ministry paper-pushing sounded neither appetizing nor something she needed Malfoy assistance to obtain.
“Legacy.”
At that, she did laugh. “Legacy? I do believe I have plenty of my own.”
Mrs. Malfoy smiled at that. It was a small, objectively pretty smile, and it made Jasmine’s skin crawl with horror. “Your legacy is survival, dear. It is admirable, surely, but it is an entirely reactive legacy, built from the world acting upon you.”
Jasmine’s jaw clenched. She would show her reactive, if she really asked for it.
“Haven’t you ever wanted the power to act upon the world instead?”
She stared at the two white peacocks in front of her for a moment. Ivory skin, snowy hair, eerie pale eyes. Dressed in simple colors and expensive fabrics. Ornate, showy details that only appeared upon observation. Intricate embroideries, impeccably pressed lapels, pure silver buttons, and sparkling jewelry. Born with all the world’s power clenched in their shriveled, newborn fists. Born with umbilical cords delivering them promises of riches and glory. Born crying out for everything they wanted, everything they would have.
“I have never heard emptier words,” she said. Remus exhaled beside her. It almost sounded like relief. “Why would the two of you even want this?”
Malfoy’s eyes snapped shut.
“You are the obvious option,” Mrs. Malfoy said smoothly. Her voice was like silk, if only silk could slice steel. “Your reputation is unassailable.”
“Incredibly debatable.”
She smiled again. “It is, really. Regardless of all the scrutiny you may receive in certain publications, you will always be the Golden Girl. It is all cyclical, you must understand. They scrutinize because it is interesting. But you will always have public affection, regardless of how you may choose to act or present yourself.”
Jasmine raised a brow. That sounded very much like an insult.
“You are a symbol of hope, whether you enjoy it or not. No amount of scandal will remove your name from its association with morality and goodness.”
“That sounds rather like a challenge.”
She did not seem to notice the sarcastic little quip. “After the events that occurred in your fourth year, the Malfoy name… requires gentle remodeling.”
Jasmine stared at her. “You want me to scrub your public image. Not sure any amount of magic will help with that, I’m afraid.”
“I want to align our families for mutual benefit.”
“To make everyone forget what your husband did.”
Malfoy stiffened. His eyes still did not meet Jasmine’s, no matter how blatantly she stared at him. She nodded at him, knowing he would catch the movement in his periphery. His eyes did flick up just a bit, but only to shift from his tea cup to hers. She could see how he was grinding his teeth together, flame licking the edges of his ears. From this position, with his tea steaming in front of him, he almost looked like a dragon with tendrils of smoke curling from its nostrils.
Mrs. Malfoy’s tone was unaffected. “The public does not often forget events of that nature, but it is capable of moving forward.”
“And you think Jasmine is your solution?” Remus interjected calmly, his first contribution in the entire conversation. Jasmine looked up to see that familiar coil of anger in his brown eyes. Familiar to her, but difficult to discern by a stranger. “You have flattered her greatly, but I am not certain that your family’s sullied name would not be enough to destroy her position as a ‘symbol of hope,’ as you so aptly said.”
Not to mention — “I am not a rehabilitation center for the families of war criminals,” she gritted stiffly. “Pick someone else. Why me?”
Across the table, Malfoy still did not look at her. But she gasped when the edge of his shoe suddenly pressed down onto her foot. She gripped the edge of the table, writhing as she tried to pull her foot away, but he increased the pressure and held it pinned there. The smirk on his face was only half-satisfied.
He relented only when Remus moved to look under the table.
“Ms. Potter, if you decline, it is your right.”
Jasmine turned to look back to Mrs. Malfoy. For whatever reason, her words did not feel very sincere.
“You owe us nothing. However, you asked why you specifically have been propositioned.” She plucked her tea cup without taking another sip. Her eyes were piercing as they locked onto Jasmine. “There is nobody else that my son despises so publicly, nor anyone who despises my son so publicly. If true enemies can become allies, lovers —” She did not react to Jasmine’s gag, “— then public perception can certainly shift in an agreeable direction.”
The room tightened around them. The sound of clinking porcelain, Celestina Warbeck singing You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me, and chatter beside them felt entirely out of place for the conversation. Or, rather, it was the conversation which was out of place.
“Find someone else to launder your reputation.”
She was already on her feet, digging through her purse for a couple coins to pay for her tea, when Mrs. Malfoy’s voice stilled her once more.
“I can have Sirius Black released from Azkaban.”
The coins slipped from her fingers and fell onto the table with a loud clatter that attracted a few irritated looks. One rolled aimlessly until it collided with Malfoy’s saucer and fell with a dull sound.
She stared unblinkingly with her blood roaring in her ears. She didn’t look anywhere in particular. She was facing the counter, she supposed, and staring down one very confused worker in a frilly purple apron, but her gaze was wholly unseeing.
Jasmine heard a few murmurs. They came from her own table. A silvery noise. A lower rumble.
“What?” she finally managed in a breathy whisper.
Mrs. Malfoy waited until she dragged her gaze over to look at her. Her stupid, complacent smile was gone, replaced with something far more grim. She scanned her, not with the scathing approach her son frequently had, but with something even more calculating. Like she already knew the question Jasmine hadn’t asked yet.
How?
“It would be difficult,” she began. “The Ministry is obstinate. They refuse to reopen the case regardless of evidence, legal precedent, or public pressure. And if it comes at my behest, the task becomes infinitely more delicate. A Malfoy pleading for the freedom of an alleged murderer is not a request made lightly. Especially when she is related to him.”
Jasmine’s eyes fluttered shut. Her legs threatened to give out, knees buckling just slightly, and her head spun where it was fixed on her neck. She gripped the edge of the table. When she opened her eyes, they were on Remus.
He was looking at Mrs. Malfoy with his jaw slack and his stare sorrowful. No lift to his brows, no widened eyes. It was something between disbelief and grief that made his chest rise and fall so shallowly. His fingers trembled in their slack position on his lap.
“You’re lying,” Jasmine said for the both of them.
“I am not.”
Why did she believe her? “I…”
“I believe I can manage it. With the proper alignment. With our association with your name, Miss Potter, it will not prove impossible, I am sure of that. With —”
“Okay.”
The word escaped her mouth before her sanity could recover it. She didn’t remove her gaze from Remus. She swallowed audibly, her mouth feeling horribly dry. He snapped his head up to look at her, confusion etched across his forehead.
“Yes,” she then said, looking at both the Malfoys. “I will do it.”
Malfoy was finally looking at her.
It wasn’t disgust that had his pupils constricting into pinpricks. It wasn’t horror that had his lips parting. She always found those lips so odd. So pink, so carefully constructed with a dramatic cupid’s bow and slim, upward lines like cupid’s wings. They were far more delicate than anything she’d ever heard come from his mouth.
It was betrayal, oddly enough.
He looked at her as though she’d held the rope from which he’d been dangling off the side of a cliff, and she let him go. Not because her shoulders had dislocated, nor because his weight had pulled her down with him, but because she simply let go. His only lifeline to keep him from entering what she was sure was his idea of hell for a year — mainly because it was her idea of hell.
It disappeared within seconds. Transformed into cold, hard fury as he worked his jaw and tore his gaze away like it hurt to do so. He stared at the spot she’d once been sitting while his mouth shut.
Remus was on his feet before she could blink.
“Jasmine.”
She couldn’t stop staring at Malfoy.
“Walk with me.”
His voice was low and firm. The same voice he’d used when she nearly punched that reporter two years ago for following her into St. Mungo’s.
She did not budge.
“Now.” Firmer.
She walked with him, and he led her like a dog leading the blind. She stopped only when he did, nearly bumping into him. They’d maneuvered around dozens of pink tablecloths and strong-smelling teas to a shelf on the other side of the shop stacked with heart-shaped doilies and framed photographs of the owner and her family.
His hands came to her arms. They were warm and strong, and his fingertips massaged gently into her muscles. He gave her a gentle jostle, and she finally met his eyes.
“You cannot agree to this without thinking,” he told her softly, bending his neck down to meet her gaze. “You cannot trust her blindly.”
“I’m not —”
“You are.”
She was. He was right. Always. Right.
She swallowed hard, watching the small scar on his lower lip twitch. She then shook her head and looked down.
“Let me do the talking, Min. Alright?”
“Right.” Right. “Alright.”
He led her back to the table, and she followed in the same daze as she had before. She stood in front of it for a moment, just staring stupidly, before finally sitting down. Nothing felt right. She was slightly out of her body. Gravity didn’t have quite the same pull.
Mrs. Malfoy watched her with unnerving patience.
Malfoy was breathing too evenly. He was counting his inhales and exhales, definitely.
“If you have the means to free Sirius, why have you not done it already?” Remus asked steadily.
“It would have been more disadvantageous than beneficial before,” she said plainly, as though there was nothing wrong with it at all. As though she weren’t talking about her own cousin. Jasmine’s nails found those holes she burrowed into the seat as she willed herself not to explode like a firework. “My environment would have been unforgiving to such a thing. Power is ineffective if you do not use it with delicate timing. The timing is correct now. And family,” her voice quieted, “is rarely simple.”
“I would say not allowing your innocent cousin to rot in prison is a very simple thing,” Remus replied smoothly, saying much more kindly what Jasmine wanted to.
It was as though Mrs. Malfoy did not hear him. “Status, legacy, and political leverage are similarly complicated. Intricate gears in a precious watch. These sort of things require time, especially with the sort of challenge it will be against the Ministry. However, the situation is different now. With the right allies. Agreements. It is possible.”
Possible.
A silence hung between them. It was filled only with tea slurping and love-addled babbling.
“Take the time to consider my proposal,” she then said with finality. “Both of you. If you prefer, Mr. Lupin, we can arrange a meeting with my lawyers to go over the strategy in full. If you are satisfied, we can then discuss a proper contract for my son’s arrangement with your —” She paused for a fraction of a second, her only falter all day, “— niece.”
Remus turned to look at Jasmine.
She nodded, warily.
He turned and relayed the same movement to Mrs. Malfoy. “Write to me.”
“Of course.”
Jasmine, Remus, and Mrs. Malfoy stood up in tandem. Malfoy lagged behind a couple seconds. He moved slower, but he stood straight with his shoulders in a tight line and his jaw set firmly. His gaze was firm on Jasmine. He was scraping those knife-silver eyes over every inch of her face, a furious edge to them. But his expression was neutral. Like he was looking at a blank wall.
Remus placed a protective hand between her shoulder blades and walked with her to the door. That horrible, stupid bell chimed as they stepped out. Her skin buzzed.
She spared one glance over her shoulder as they walked away.
Malfoy was still staring at her.
She looked away first.
──────
The Enchanted Ear
July 11th, 1997
POTTER AND MALFOY GET COZY IN HOGSMEADE
Written by: Milton Twig
Photographers captured an intense encounter yesterday afternoon at Spintwiches Sporting Goods in Hogsmeade Village. Rising seventh-years Jasmine Potter and Draco Malfoy were photographed standing alarmingly close in what can only be flirtation! Potter is seen rising onto her toes about to kiss Malfoy, and Malfoy is seen raising his hand to touch her face.
Whether what they share is still hatred, or becoming love, The Enchanted Ear will be listening closely to report to our loyal readers! Is it war? Or is it romance? Our Galleons are on both…
──────
The Locker Room Leak
July 12th, 1997
SPARKS FLYING BETWEEN POTTER AND MALFOY
Written by: Gabby Cork
Bystanders swear the scene was electric with rage. Others insist sparks of an entirely different nature were flying. Are the two most gifted Seekers of the decade entering a new season of animosity, or are they developing off-field alchemy? Potter steps “dangerously close” (according to one eye-witness; see image below), but consensus has not been reached on whether it was to snog or scare. Malfoy is seen lifting his hand. Is he going to slap her? Or cradle her jaw?
This is the second time in two weeks that the duo has been seen in close proximity, sparking rumors that their rivalry may be turning into something more complicated. Story in development.
──────
July 12th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane,
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Dear Mr. Lupin,
Thank you for your time yesterday. I trust you and Miss Potter returned home safely and were able to enjoy the remainder of your afternoon undisturbed.
As discussed, I would like to continue our conversation in a more formal and private setting. If it suits your schedule, I propose we meet this Wednesday at Malfoy Manor at half past three. As promised, I would like to arrange a meeting to discuss the necessary political and legal strategy regarding Sirius Black’s imprisonment. My solicitors and advisors are prepared to present the initial framework, including potential obstacles, allies, and legislative pathways.
Do let me know if a different day or hour would be preferable. I will adjust accordingly.
With respect,
Narcissa Black Malfoy
July 12th, 1997
1 Windsor Avenue,
Malmesbury, Wiltshire, SN16 9QF
Mrs. Malfoy,
Wednesday half past three will be acceptable. I will attend without Miss Potter, and I expect the discussion to remain focused on the matter at hand and not what may occur if Miss Potter and I are satisfied by your plan. My interest in your strategy does not constitute agreement.
Regards,
Remus J. Lupin
July 12th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane,
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Mr. Lupin,
Your prompt response is appreciated.
As is your forthrightness. The best business partners are those that read the fine print.
My staff will greet you at the gates. Simply present the seal on my envelope, and the wards will recognize it and permit your entrance. I look forward to a productive discussion.
N. Malfoy
──────
July 13th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane,
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Dear Jasmine,
Have you noticed the recent onslaught of publications talking about you and Malfoy? It’s absolutely preposterous! I honestly thought this ridiculous notion would die down after a few days. What happened in Hogsmeade, anyway? Ginny told me about how Narcissa Malfoy came in… What did she want from you?
And while we’re on the subject: what exactly happened at Spintwitches? Because according to The Hexposé and about five other deeply insipid publications, you and Draco Malfoy were either arguing, flirting, hexing each other, about to kiss, already secretly dating, or conducting Ministry negotiations. The number of stories and their absurdity is impressive. Curious to know what actually happened!
Write back soon. Please don’t force me to chase you down like Skeeter.
With love,
Hermione
July 13th, 1997
8 Heathgate Drive,
Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, NW11 6NL
Dear Hermione,
Just reporters doing what they always do. It’ll boil over. Madam Malfoy just told me to stay away from her precious little dragon, and then the tosser had nothing kind to say when I was shopping for Quidditch-grade eye-drops. Nothing unusual there. When do you leave for Greece with your parents, by the way?
Best,
Jasmine
──────
Wingbeat Weekly
July 15th, 1997
SEEKER & CAPTAIN RIVALS CHASING SMOOCHES, NOT SNITCHES
Written By: Valerian Mapleleaf
Hogwarts seventh-years Jasmine Potter (Gryffindor) and Draco Malfoy (Slytherin) are the captains of their respective teams as well as the top 1 and 2 Seekers of their age (respectively and currently; these rankings frequently fluctuate according to official Quidditch Quarterly publications). Their rivalry has previously been heated and even incited debate on whether the two fast-flyers possess the sportsman-like behavior demanded by a pro-team. They’ve gotten physical on the field before. Nobody forgets when they both sent each other to the infirmary with a bleeding nose (Malfoy, courtesy of Potter) and Jelly-Legs Jinxes (Potter, courtesy of Malfoy). Host of radio show Strategic Skyplay and Hollyhead Harpies retiree Veronica Hedge has even notably remarked that “one day, these two will be so busy chasing each other into ditches that they’ll miss the Snitch entirely.”
Well, rumors suggest that somewhere along the way, these two star Seekers went from scrimmaging to snuggling! The speculation has been initiated by two photographs snapped of the two Hogwarts students. Debate is rampant: are they about to embrace, or are they about to fight? Fighting is their usual response, but nobody can deny that these pictures are… different.
The Quidditch Pitch has always been an intense setting, allowing emotions to blossom. Normally, it’s frustration, which we have seen plenty of in young Potter’s penchant for throwing down her dragon-hide gloves like they’re gauntlets. Frequently, it is pride, as we have seen in Malfoy’s hubristic and unsporty victory laps.
Love? That’s a new one.
The real question here is: how will this summer tryst impact their performance on the field? Whether they are locking lips or fists, recruiters have high expectations for these two. For their own sakes, they should not allow their romance to impact their rivalry on the field.
──────
July 17th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Mr. Lupin,
Thank you once again for meeting with me yesterday. Your time and attention to this matter are appreciated. I trust the documents and reports you returned home with were complete, and I hope they provide clarity regarding the failings within the original court proceedings.
As you review them, do not hesitate to reach out with any questions or requests for further material or explanation from my counsel. I understand the complexity of the case may demand closer examination, and they are prepared to provide whatever is necessary.
I look forward to your response in due course.
With regard,
Narcissa Black Malfoy
July 17th, 1997
1 Windsor Avenue
Malmesbury, Wiltshire, SN16 9QF
Mrs. Malfoy,
Your letter and the accompanying documents arrived without issue. I will continue reviewing them over the next several days.
If questions arise, I will write.
Sincerely,
Remus J. Lupin
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July 19th, 1997
1 Windsor Avenue
Malmesbury, Wiltshire, SN16 9QF
Mrs. Malfoy,
In reviewing the case materials, I noticed the Ministry’s continued reliance on the Black family’s historical associations as justification for denying any request for reassessment. You mentioned during our meeting that you had potential allies in the Wizengamot willing to counter this line of reasoning.
My question is simple: how do you intend to secure their cooperation, particularly those whose positions remain publicly aligned with Minister Fudge?
I would appreciate clarification.
Sincerely,
Remus J. Lupin
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July 20th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Mr. Lupin,
Your question is a prudent one.
The individuals I referenced are not idealists. They are opportunists. Their loyalties do not lie with the Minister nor with any ideology, but rather wherever prospects are most promising. Should certain strategic incentives be placed before them, their stance will adjust accordingly.
When the time comes, I will outline the steps required to create those conditions.
Please continue reviewing the remaining testimony records. They will contextualize the gaps we identified.
With regard,
Narcissa Black Malfoy
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The Wizarding Standard
July 21st, 1997
MALFOY HEIR POSSIBLY CONSORTING WITH POTTER
Written By: Polly Magnolis
Recent incidents in Hogsmeade, the Ministry’s annual Auror Gala, as well as multiple insider reports suggest an unexpected development between Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the The Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Malfoy and Black following his mother, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, two historically respected pure-blood lines, and Jasmine Potter, whose public behavior continues to draw divisive lines in the wizarding world.
While no formal statement has been made by either family, many are left wondering whether rumored close encounters are coincidence or the beginning of a highly concerning association. Though Miss Potter has been largely celebrated for her role in quelling the Second Wizarding War before it could begin, her increasingly unrestrained conduct and disregard for long-standing social norms have left many wondering if she is an appropriate acquaintance for a young aristocrat raised with traditional values and decorum.
Whether this is a fleeting lapse in judgment or a developing pattern remains to be seen. The Standard will continue to monitor the situation.
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July 23rd, 1997
1 Windsor Avenue
Malmesbury, Wiltshire, SN16 9QF
Mrs. Malfoy,
Thank you for the clarification regarding the Wizengamot members.
I have an additional concern Several pieces of evidence you included depend on the claim that Sirius Black was denied legal counsel entirely. If the Ministry refuses to acknowledge procedural misconduct, how do you intend to force a formal review? A petition alone will not be enough, and the current Minister has historically been unwilling to reopen wartime proceedings.
I would appreciate your intended approach.
Sincerely,
Remus J. Lupin
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July 24th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Mr. Lupin,
Your concern is not unfounded.
A petition would indeed be dismissed immediately. Instead, we will pursue two actions:
First, we will request a full procedural audit of sentencing practices between late 1981 and early 1982. We will not single out Mr. Black in the initial filing. Instead, we will frame it as an inquiry into Ministry failings during a period of instability. Once the audit begins, his case will be impossible to ignore without jeopardizing the legitimacy of all related convictions.
Second, we will quietly circulate statements from legal historians, former Aurors, and retired court officials attesting to the irregularity of sentencing without trial. Public sentiment is more powerful than policy. The Ministry will have no choice but to authorize review or risk appearing complicit in legal negligence.
When those pieces are in motion, we may then present the appeal on behalf of Mr. Black.
With regard,
Narcissa Black Malfoy
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The Starlight Sentinel
July 26th, 1997
IS POTTER ASSOCIATING WITH “EX-”DEATH EATER FAMILY?
Written By: Mona Foxglove
Whispers continue to circulate after several reported sightings of Jasmine Potter in proximity to Draco Malfoy, heir to an infamous and Ministry-scrutinized household. While some insist these encounters are mere coincidence, others argue that Potter’s presence alongside a family still under review for the extent of its involvement with You-Know-Who raises questions about optics and intent.
Sources inside the Ministry refuse to comment on any formal outreach between Potter and the Malfoys, though one senior official privately expressed hope that the Chosen One “understands the weight her public behavior carries.”
For now, the story appears rooted more in speculation than fact. Still, as a symbol of post-war reconstruction and accountability, Potter would be wise to remember that even unintended associations shape public confidence. Whether this is the beginning of a meaningful reconciliation, a political maneuver, or merely idle rumor remains uncertain.
The public will, as ever, be watching.
July 26th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Dear Jas,
What the bloody fuck are they saying about you in the papers? Ginny’s the only reason this letter isn’t a Howler.
You’re my best mate, Jas, but if I see one more tabby scrapbooking your face next to Malfoy’s with a load of hearts, I’m going to Floo over there and strangle you. Forget the tabbies, have you seen The Starlight Sentinel? Or The Lunar Gazette? Next thing we know, it’ll be the bloody Prophet.
And as I speak to you FRED AND GEORGE ARE BETTING ON WHEN THE TWO OF YOU TOSSERS WILL BE ENGAGED. And Dad keeps laughing in this strange way whenever the ferret’s name comes up, and Mum will just up and start cleaning. We’re all a bit concerned over here.
I know the papers are wrong. I know it. But I’m going to need to see it from you in writing, or Percy will be sending you an essay on the consequences of fraternizing with questionable bloodlines. I’d do it myself, if it weren’t an essay.
See you soon,
Ron
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July 27th, 1997
4 Ottery St Catchpole
Clovelly, Devon, EX39 5TA
Ronald,
You’re an absolute blithering idiot if you think anything in those papers might be true.
Jasmine picked up her pen and stared at the words on the page for a moment. She gnawed at her lip as she glanced up across the kitchen table and over her circle-framed reading glasses to see Remus sporting a deep frowning and rifling through a spread of parchment that completely covered his side of the table. He read something on one page, squinted, and scrambled to find a particular file somewhere in the drowning mess.
She looked back down at Ron’s letter where it was resting under her mostly blank parchment. He’d drawn a little stick figure of himself with his head exploding. The little figurine wiggled on the page, little brains and guts splattering across the letter before crawling back to restore themselves, only to detonate all over again.
She snorted to herself. Remus didn’t look up.
Jasmine didn’t really like lying to her friends. Then, it wasn’t a lie, was it? She hadn’t actually agreed to anything. Remus had barely finished pouring through the case files.
She’d given it a go herself. Reading glasses tucked tight on the bridge of her nose, her nice quills and ink arranged. She couldn’t get through it. It was just devastating to read the court transcripts and know just how Sirius had begged and pleaded to be understood and believed. The testimonies were conflicting, judicial commentary scathing, and the Wizengamot interjections made her want to dive into a Pensieve and find a way to tear them apart until they were piles of bone and ligament.
Simultaneously, it was deeply boring to go through chain-of-custody forms, Auror field reports, and wand log summaries. The redacted pages, misfiled duplicates, and intake documentation had her head spinning. Though she tried her hardest to make sense of it all, the words had begun to float off the page and spin in dizzy circles.
She wasn’t sure how Remus managed.
It was one intricately cut puzzle. As though the creator hoped that nobody would ever solve it.
And it was crushing.
But he sat there with that concentrated expression, rifling through the papers as though he were still a professor at Hogwarts, grading essays. She didn’t know how he managed, no, not at all.
“How is it going?” she asked, her voice small.
He didn’t look up. “Alright, I suppose.” His voice was tired.
“What do you make of it all? Do you think she’s right? Is it possible?”
He sighed heavily as he placed a particularly thick book of parchment down. It collapsed onto the table with a dull thunk, casting gentle wind that rolled up the edges of her letter.
“It…” Remus’s hand came up to wipe heavily at his face. His scars warped. “It might be.”
A spark of hope lit in like, like someone had jabbed their wand into her gut and whispered Lumos. It flickered as she remembered the conditions. What she would have to do.
But Jasmine had fared far, far worse in the past.
Draco Malfoy may have been an insufferable, vain cretin in the shape of a dandelion, but he was not nearly as formidable as his father’s master. No, to call him formidable at all was a laughing matter. He was nothing. He was nothing.
He was nothing she couldn’t handle.
Jasmine looked back down at her letter. She didn’t want to continue lying to her friends. She’d already received over a dozen letters from them, written some half-minded babble about how stupid reporters and Malfoys are, hoping she sounded as she always did. But she couldn’t keep doing it.
So she set her pen down and pushed Ron’s letter away with her hardly written response.
They would find out soon enough anyway.
She would just deal with the backlash then.
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July 29th, 1997
17 Mothwick Lane
Marazion, Cornwall, TR17 0AP
Mr. Lupin,
Your most recent letter was welcome news. I am relieved to hear you agree that there is a viable legal path forward and that the material provided has assisted in your review. I assure you, every document in my possession will remain at your disposal.
I understand, of course, that you and Miss Potter will require the full and explicit terms of the agreement before any signatures are considered. I would not expect either of you to commit blindly, nor would I wish it. Matters such as these must be handled with precision.
Let us proceed to the next stage. My legal counsel has cleared their schedule and will be available at my request any day this coming week. Kindly inform me of a date and hour that suits both of you, and the arrangements will be made.
I look forward to your reply.
With regard,
Narcissa Black Malfoy
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July 30th, 1997
1 Windsor Avenue
Malmesbury, Wiltshire, SN16 9QF
Mrs. Malfoy,
After reviewing my schedule and speaking with Jasmine, I believe we can commit to a meeting on August 1st at 10 in the morning. Provided this date still aligns with your counsel’s availability, we will be there. We will additionally be bringing our own counsel.
Regards,
Remus J. Lupin