[hp] corridors of power 5
Corridors of Power
Being An Originally Intermittent Account
of the Political (Mis)Adventures
of the Viscount Northallerton, Lord Malfoy of Wimbledon;
and the Rt. Honourable Harry J. Potter,
Member of Parliament for North Southwark and Bermondsey (Liberal Democrat).
Annotated, with Footnotes
You Must Produce The Evidence.
OFFICE OF THE MINISTER FOR MAGIC
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (UNPLOTTABLE)
Wednesday March 16th, 4:32 pm
"Habeas corpus, my boy." Boris Johnson stabbed at a few letters on his computer keyboard, and turned to beckon Draco to take a chair.
Draco took a moment to register that the Minister For Magic was talking about the muggle legal term and not demanding that Draco produce a dead body. He snorted. "I think the general gist is that toenail clippings are all that's required."
"Secret, non-disclosed toenail clippings, eh?"
Draco straightened up. "Minister, something must be done." He drummed his fingers on the chair arm, surprised at his own impatience.
"I completely agree. So, do you have any suggestions that won't lead to either of us losing our jobs or being demagistered for dangerous disclosure?" Boris sighed, tight and not a little bitter, and flicked his floppy fringe to one side. "Because I don't."
"If I could get into the Commons chamber--"
"Be sensible, boy, the only wands registered for that place are mine and Potter's."
Draco pushed up out of the chair. "Then you could--"
Boris threw a copy of The Spectator at Draco's head1. "No, I could not. Here. Saves me putting it in the mail."
"What's your column about tomorrow?" Draco caught the magazine and rolled it up into a tight tube, smacking it in his palm a few times while he wandered around the office.
"Nominally, the IRA. But more about this issue of internment and how it never works."
Draco couldn't help his sharp laugh. "Well, yes. Don't I know that."
*
5:41 pm
The tellers for the ayes and noes2 had just delivered their numbers to the Speaker--Draco had ensconced himself on the armchair under the window and transfigured the television screen much larger--when Boris came back into the office.
"How the fuck did you get here so quickly?"
Boris strode over to a bookshelf and pulled out a large hardback. "Apparition. One of the few privileges of Commons over Lords."
Draco frowned into his near-empty scotch. "You mean you can sit here in relative peace and just turn up for votes?"
"Brilliant, isn't it?" Boris handed him the book, and Draco proceeded to splutter the remaining mouthful of Laphroaig3 over the cover.
"How did I not know about this?"
There was a wry tilt to Boris's grin. "There are only three copies in existence. One in the King's Collection in the British Library, one at the Ministry proper, and this. And I'm under very strict instructions to ensure it does not end up in the offices of either the Member for Bermondsey or the Viscount Northallerton--" He gestured with the scotch bottle, "--their rules, not mine, and please don't splash your drink over my armchair, Draco--"
"Whose rules?"
"Both. Apparently there was enough of a to-do about two of you being involved in parliamentary process, without having you squabble over using the magic in the building."
"Has Potter seen this?"
"You are my nephew."4
Draco beamed. "How's the other portfolio, then?" It fascinated him that the Muggles had a minister for arts and culture, although he had quickly been disabused of his notion that the department's job was to regulate the number of stanzas in poetry. It was all about quotas for Welsh cinema and lottery funding for preserved sharks in tanks5.
"Lots of gala invites, which is good, but then lots of gala invites, if you know what I mean." Boris picked up a small key on the coffee-table. "Why is this here?"
"Um," said Draco. "I used your passcodes for the Statute Record Office and they sent the papers I wanted to your Purple Box6."
Boris rolled his eyes. "You want me to open my Ministerial box to get your sneakily obtained documents?"
"They're not secret."
"No, but the Ministry would very much like them to remain... obscure."
Draco stood. "The consequences of those restrictions are hardly obscure to those who suffered under them, Minister."
"Don't act like a pariah, Draco, it's terribly boring. I know you can't help but take this personally--"
It was true. It was all a bit undignified, and the legislation was going to be passed no matter what happened, but he couldn't help. Well. There had to be something to thwart.
Boris handed Draco the parchments from the purple box, shutting it again with a locking charm. "I'm sure he's seen these," he said softly. "And I deny any and all of this conversation, including the temporary misplacing of that book by the cleaner--bollocks, another bloody bell." He glanced up at the screen, which was flashing red. "How many amendments did you lot suggest?"
"Twenty-two," Draco said, shrinking papers, book, magazine and bottle to handkerchief size and stuffing them in his pockets, "and your cleaner also took the Laphroaig."
1. THE SPECTATOR: Weekly political magazine of which Boris Johnson is the editor.
2. VOTING: It's all excrutiatingly quaint. Draco's suggestion for buzzers does actually seem quite sensible.
3. LAPHROAIG: (la-froyg) Really strong single malt. Insane stuff.
4. NEPHEW: To be exact, the Minister is Draco's third cousin at one remove, but as the Viscount has precious few relatives that aren't dead or insane, we allow him the indulgence.
5. BRIT ART: It boggles the mind.
6. PURPLE BOX: Muggle Ministers have Red Boxes for important documents. The Minister For Magic is a little flamboyant.
Thursday's Child Has Far To Go
Rm B29.2
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (COMMONS)
Thursday March 17th, 9:45 am
Elegant hands. Exquisitely tailored suit. Blond hair that needed no encouragement from highlights. A perfectly polite sneer.
Harry's PA shook Draco's hand with the kind of bored dismissal that Draco felt certain he had royalties on. "Mr Potter should be here in just a moment," she said, smoothing her skirt underneath her as she sat down. "You're more than welcome to wait."
Draco was fairly confident that he was, in fact, as queer as a Conservative could possibly be, but that didn't stop his eyes from fixating on the splendid line of Cate's ("with a C," she'd said, eyes narrowed as if daring him to ask) never-ending legs.
Women. It was always the legs.
*
"What an interesting choice of new personnel." Draco set his briefcase lightly on Harry's desk and clicked it open.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," Harry muttered, yanking open file drawers and trying to put his tie on at the same time. His greeting had been something along the lines of bloodyJubileeLinefuckers and brokenshowersatgym and whyareyouhere?. "Ah! There it is," he pulled out a folder and dropped it on the desk. "I'm going to be late, Malfoy, what do you want? And what's wrong with Cate?"
"She's very blonde."
Harry glared at him. Draco grinned, leaned back against the desk edge.
"And tall."
More glaring. Draco took the book and papers he wanted out of his briefcase, and when he looked up Harry was still looking daggers at him.
"Nice tits?"
Harry's eyes widened impossibly, horrified. The door slammed. Ngh, no wand.
Draco felt the prickle of something euphoric on his scalp. "Well?"
"I. Wouldn't. Know." Harry said slowly, mouth curving into a guilty quirk.
"I'm sure she's an awfully smart and efficient assistant," Draco continued, convinced there were faint spots of colour on Harry's cheeks, especially when Harry ducked his head to fish in the top drawer of his desk. Draco took advantage of his distraction to slip the parchments inside the manilla folder.
"Actually, Malfoy, " Harry placed a pair of cufflinks on the folder, and unexpectedly invaded Draco's personal space, "she's an arrogant posh bird with an agenda, but she's rather--what's that?"
"Rather what?"
"Westminster, A Magical History?" Harry's voice went up high at the end of the sentence.
Draco held the book behind his back, just out of Harry's reach. He pocketed the cufflinks, too. "Rather what?"
"That book, I thought there weren't any copies--"
"Rather what?"
Harry sighed. "Entertaining."
Draco frowned.
"Also frustrating."
That was more like it. "You obviously don't want to know how insanely riddled with magic this place is, do you?" Harry, shorter and smaller, was dangerously close to shoving him back on the desk. Draco felt this to be a win-win situation, even when Harry stopped grabbing for the book and stepped back.
Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair, transferring the balance of messiness from right to left. "Um, I'm late. What's this all about?"
"It's a show of good faith." Draco reached for Harry's wrist and dug in his pocket for the cufflinks. They were silver, chunky cast owls. Draco had to smile.
"I can do that myself," Harry muttered, but he didn't pull his hand away, just watched Draco's fingers.
"What, show faith?" Draco folded Harry's cuff neatly together and threaded the spring-arm through the button hole, taking his time. "Other one, please."
Draco had no comparison, but with his thumb over Harry's pulse he could swear it was racing. Draco fastened the other cufflink, rather aware of his own breathing.
"If you tell me you're expecting me to do the right thing I will smack you into next week," Harry said pleasantly, but his intake of breath was harsh when Draco tightened his grip and said, equally pleasant:
"I have no expectations of you, Potter. You should be pleased about that."
*
Subject: back again
From: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
Date: 10 March 2005 23:42
To: lord muck
you do like to make your point, don't you? do you have any idea how full the debating
chamber was today? bloody lucky those parchments didn't fall out onto the floor, would've
been fun trying to explain exactly what the wizengamot decree and emergency Auror Powers
were to the member for Guildford.
NOT TO MENTION WHY THE REGULATIONS WERE ON **PARCHMENT**
Subject: Out-of-Office Autoreply
From: The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 10 March 2005 23:43
To: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
This is an automated reply. The person you have contacted is unavailable at this time. Your message:
Re: back again
Date: 10 March 2005 23:42
has been received and will be read in due course.
Any subsequent emails will be queued. You will not receive this message again.
No Rest For The Wicked
Subject: (no subject)
From: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
Date: 11 March 2005 01:09
To: lord muck
this book is fucking brilliant. it's making me think i probably missed out on all this
great stuff when hermione went on about hogwarts a history.
i'm never taking the east palace lift ever again.
btw if you approve it and want breakfast catering services have said they'll do an
allnighter on the terrace bars.
Subject: Re: back again
From:The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 11 March 2005 01:55
To: bleeding heart liberal
They can't be photocopied, you idiot, they're Ministry documents.
I take it--from your refusal to address the issue--that the parallels I so painstakingly
drew for you became somewhat more apparent? I'm watching the debate right now,
and you're yawning. Surely everyone is too tired to keep up with this rubbish.
I shall come down to the Strangers Gallery to watch Blair and Clarke approve our
amendments with red faces.
Tomorrow (today?) we were supposed to be debating "Care of Cathedrals" in the
afternoon session. I suppose I can thank your Honourable friends for delaying that
particular form of torture, at least.
Subject: Re: (no subject)
From: The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 11 March 2005 02:03
To: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
>>this great stuff when hermione went on about hogwarts a history
If you ever compare me to Granger again I'll give your home address to Rupert Murdoch.
STRANGERS GALLERY
COMMONS DEBATING CHAMBER
2:21 am
There were four other Lords in the Strangers Gallery7 when Draco sidled in and took a seat at the back. The view wasn't terrific but the seats were comfortable, and sometime in the past couple of years Draco had developed a learned response to the sounds of political debating:
Sleep.
*
3:06 am
"Draco?"
He woke up with a start. Harry was crouched down in front of him, dark circles under his eyes.
"Done?"
"Nah, just a recess. We're going to keep going to get this through by the weekend. Bit bloody sick of the noes door."
Draco blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "How did you know I was here?"
"Email on PDA, bloody marvellous." Harry sat in the seat next to him and leaned back, closing his eyes.
Draco looked across at him, thought about the sulky, histrionic annoyance that plagued his school years, and shook his head. They sat in silence until the bell rang again.
"You should go home--"
"I'll wait," Draco said shortly, and tried very hard not to deliver a speech about unfair terrorist associations and living under suspicion, because there was preaching to the choir and then there was trying to get the choir to break some pretty fuckoff laws on the off-chance of new songbooks. "The expiry clause is the thing," he said instead.
"Hmm," Harry sounded thoughtful. He stood, watched the MPs filing back in to the chamber for a minute, and chewed his lip.
He looked about seventeen again. It was all very disconcerting, because Draco associated that face with a certain kind of saving-the-world attitude.
*
Subject: (no subject)
From: The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 11 March 2005 11:22
To: bleeding heart liberal
I think the term I'm looking for is Eleventh Hour.
Come on.
Subject: Re: (no subject)
From: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
Date: 11 March 2005 15:03
To: lord muck
Oh ye of little.
*
PRESS OFFICE (BBC News)
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT
5:38 pm
"...and this time an olive branch has been waved by the government when Tony Blair announced he will give MPs the chance to review the law in a year's time. He denies an accusation from Tory leader Michael Howard that this represents a "sunset clause in all but name". The move is aimed at ending the deadlock between the two Houses. After more than 30 hours of debate already, the bill will return to the Lords this evening to be approved."
*
Rm 407
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (LORDS)
7:15 pm
Back on the couch. Harry's shoes were marginally better.
"We're going out."
"I am too bloody tired to move from this spot," Draco said. "You should be too."
"Sod that," chirped Harry, and Draco felt a warm crackle invigorate his muscles.
"It really betrays a complete lack of social graces to go using charms on someone without asking their permission," Draco grumbled.
"You're the one who always says I don't think like a wizard." Harry almost looked like he was pouting. It was unbearably attractive.
Draco snickered. "No, I always say you don't think. End of story." His coat--Aquascutum, a concession to fashion--landed on his head with a thwump. "All right. Where are we going?"
Harry fished in his coat pocket for a card. "Kennington," he read, "Sarf London Pacific."8 The card tumbled through the air to land on Draco's lap.
"A. Tiki. Bar." Draco looked around the room, just in case this was a joke for an audience, then back at Harry.
Grinning a bit too manically for Draco's peace of mind, Harry said, "They have wicked cocktails."
Of course. It would make some kind of bizarre sense that Potter was a umbrella-and-pineapple-slices fetishist. Draco narrowed his eyes. "In case it escaped your notice, I'm a Viscount. And you're a duly-elected. And this place has hula dancers."
"Up," Harry commanded, "and out, and quit whining." He gave Draco a little shove through the door, kicking it shut behind them.
The lift button was annoyingly stuck. Draco thumped it a few times until it shook loose and the light flickered on. Something occurred to him. "Either the thought of grass skirts and mai-tais really distracts you, or you're slipping in your crusade."
"I'm sorry?" Harry blinked at him as they got into the lift.
Heh. "Oh, nothing. Wicked cocktails, you--"
"It's temporarily a low priority." Harry cocked his head, raised his eyebrows. "Not forgotten."
"Ah, Harry," smirked Draco, "whatever you say."
"Fuck off." The pout again.
Draco laughed, and the lift doors opened.
*
7. STRANGERS GALLERY: "Strangers", in parliamentary parlance, refers to all those who are not familiar to Parliament, i.e., members of the public who are not Peers, MPs, or staff.
8. SOUTH LONDON PACIFIC: Once he had a few Singapore Slings, Draco forgot about the raffia lampshades and demonstrated he knew all the words to Bali Hai.
End, Part V ~ Part VI
Being An Originally Intermittent Account
of the Political (Mis)Adventures
of the Viscount Northallerton, Lord Malfoy of Wimbledon;
and the Rt. Honourable Harry J. Potter,
Member of Parliament for North Southwark and Bermondsey (Liberal Democrat).
Annotated, with Footnotes
You Must Produce The Evidence.
OFFICE OF THE MINISTER FOR MAGIC
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (UNPLOTTABLE)
Wednesday March 16th, 4:32 pm
"Habeas corpus, my boy." Boris Johnson stabbed at a few letters on his computer keyboard, and turned to beckon Draco to take a chair.
Draco took a moment to register that the Minister For Magic was talking about the muggle legal term and not demanding that Draco produce a dead body. He snorted. "I think the general gist is that toenail clippings are all that's required."
"Secret, non-disclosed toenail clippings, eh?"
Draco straightened up. "Minister, something must be done." He drummed his fingers on the chair arm, surprised at his own impatience.
"I completely agree. So, do you have any suggestions that won't lead to either of us losing our jobs or being demagistered for dangerous disclosure?" Boris sighed, tight and not a little bitter, and flicked his floppy fringe to one side. "Because I don't."
"If I could get into the Commons chamber--"
"Be sensible, boy, the only wands registered for that place are mine and Potter's."
Draco pushed up out of the chair. "Then you could--"
Boris threw a copy of The Spectator at Draco's head1. "No, I could not. Here. Saves me putting it in the mail."
"What's your column about tomorrow?" Draco caught the magazine and rolled it up into a tight tube, smacking it in his palm a few times while he wandered around the office.
"Nominally, the IRA. But more about this issue of internment and how it never works."
Draco couldn't help his sharp laugh. "Well, yes. Don't I know that."
*
5:41 pm
The tellers for the ayes and noes2 had just delivered their numbers to the Speaker--Draco had ensconced himself on the armchair under the window and transfigured the television screen much larger--when Boris came back into the office.
"How the fuck did you get here so quickly?"
Boris strode over to a bookshelf and pulled out a large hardback. "Apparition. One of the few privileges of Commons over Lords."
Draco frowned into his near-empty scotch. "You mean you can sit here in relative peace and just turn up for votes?"
"Brilliant, isn't it?" Boris handed him the book, and Draco proceeded to splutter the remaining mouthful of Laphroaig3 over the cover.
"How did I not know about this?"
There was a wry tilt to Boris's grin. "There are only three copies in existence. One in the King's Collection in the British Library, one at the Ministry proper, and this. And I'm under very strict instructions to ensure it does not end up in the offices of either the Member for Bermondsey or the Viscount Northallerton--" He gestured with the scotch bottle, "--their rules, not mine, and please don't splash your drink over my armchair, Draco--"
"Whose rules?"
"Both. Apparently there was enough of a to-do about two of you being involved in parliamentary process, without having you squabble over using the magic in the building."
"Has Potter seen this?"
"You are my nephew."4
Draco beamed. "How's the other portfolio, then?" It fascinated him that the Muggles had a minister for arts and culture, although he had quickly been disabused of his notion that the department's job was to regulate the number of stanzas in poetry. It was all about quotas for Welsh cinema and lottery funding for preserved sharks in tanks5.
"Lots of gala invites, which is good, but then lots of gala invites, if you know what I mean." Boris picked up a small key on the coffee-table. "Why is this here?"
"Um," said Draco. "I used your passcodes for the Statute Record Office and they sent the papers I wanted to your Purple Box6."
Boris rolled his eyes. "You want me to open my Ministerial box to get your sneakily obtained documents?"
"They're not secret."
"No, but the Ministry would very much like them to remain... obscure."
Draco stood. "The consequences of those restrictions are hardly obscure to those who suffered under them, Minister."
"Don't act like a pariah, Draco, it's terribly boring. I know you can't help but take this personally--"
It was true. It was all a bit undignified, and the legislation was going to be passed no matter what happened, but he couldn't help. Well. There had to be something to thwart.
Boris handed Draco the parchments from the purple box, shutting it again with a locking charm. "I'm sure he's seen these," he said softly. "And I deny any and all of this conversation, including the temporary misplacing of that book by the cleaner--bollocks, another bloody bell." He glanced up at the screen, which was flashing red. "How many amendments did you lot suggest?"
"Twenty-two," Draco said, shrinking papers, book, magazine and bottle to handkerchief size and stuffing them in his pockets, "and your cleaner also took the Laphroaig."
1. THE SPECTATOR: Weekly political magazine of which Boris Johnson is the editor.
2. VOTING: It's all excrutiatingly quaint. Draco's suggestion for buzzers does actually seem quite sensible.
3. LAPHROAIG: (la-froyg) Really strong single malt. Insane stuff.
4. NEPHEW: To be exact, the Minister is Draco's third cousin at one remove, but as the Viscount has precious few relatives that aren't dead or insane, we allow him the indulgence.
5. BRIT ART: It boggles the mind.
6. PURPLE BOX: Muggle Ministers have Red Boxes for important documents. The Minister For Magic is a little flamboyant.
Thursday's Child Has Far To Go
Rm B29.2
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (COMMONS)
Thursday March 17th, 9:45 am
Elegant hands. Exquisitely tailored suit. Blond hair that needed no encouragement from highlights. A perfectly polite sneer.
Harry's PA shook Draco's hand with the kind of bored dismissal that Draco felt certain he had royalties on. "Mr Potter should be here in just a moment," she said, smoothing her skirt underneath her as she sat down. "You're more than welcome to wait."
Draco was fairly confident that he was, in fact, as queer as a Conservative could possibly be, but that didn't stop his eyes from fixating on the splendid line of Cate's ("with a C," she'd said, eyes narrowed as if daring him to ask) never-ending legs.
Women. It was always the legs.
*
"What an interesting choice of new personnel." Draco set his briefcase lightly on Harry's desk and clicked it open.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," Harry muttered, yanking open file drawers and trying to put his tie on at the same time. His greeting had been something along the lines of bloodyJubileeLinefuckers and brokenshowersatgym and whyareyouhere?. "Ah! There it is," he pulled out a folder and dropped it on the desk. "I'm going to be late, Malfoy, what do you want? And what's wrong with Cate?"
"She's very blonde."
Harry glared at him. Draco grinned, leaned back against the desk edge.
"And tall."
More glaring. Draco took the book and papers he wanted out of his briefcase, and when he looked up Harry was still looking daggers at him.
"Nice tits?"
Harry's eyes widened impossibly, horrified. The door slammed. Ngh, no wand.
Draco felt the prickle of something euphoric on his scalp. "Well?"
"I. Wouldn't. Know." Harry said slowly, mouth curving into a guilty quirk.
"I'm sure she's an awfully smart and efficient assistant," Draco continued, convinced there were faint spots of colour on Harry's cheeks, especially when Harry ducked his head to fish in the top drawer of his desk. Draco took advantage of his distraction to slip the parchments inside the manilla folder.
"Actually, Malfoy, " Harry placed a pair of cufflinks on the folder, and unexpectedly invaded Draco's personal space, "she's an arrogant posh bird with an agenda, but she's rather--what's that?"
"Rather what?"
"Westminster, A Magical History?" Harry's voice went up high at the end of the sentence.
Draco held the book behind his back, just out of Harry's reach. He pocketed the cufflinks, too. "Rather what?"
"That book, I thought there weren't any copies--"
"Rather what?"
Harry sighed. "Entertaining."
Draco frowned.
"Also frustrating."
That was more like it. "You obviously don't want to know how insanely riddled with magic this place is, do you?" Harry, shorter and smaller, was dangerously close to shoving him back on the desk. Draco felt this to be a win-win situation, even when Harry stopped grabbing for the book and stepped back.
Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair, transferring the balance of messiness from right to left. "Um, I'm late. What's this all about?"
"It's a show of good faith." Draco reached for Harry's wrist and dug in his pocket for the cufflinks. They were silver, chunky cast owls. Draco had to smile.
"I can do that myself," Harry muttered, but he didn't pull his hand away, just watched Draco's fingers.
"What, show faith?" Draco folded Harry's cuff neatly together and threaded the spring-arm through the button hole, taking his time. "Other one, please."
Draco had no comparison, but with his thumb over Harry's pulse he could swear it was racing. Draco fastened the other cufflink, rather aware of his own breathing.
"If you tell me you're expecting me to do the right thing I will smack you into next week," Harry said pleasantly, but his intake of breath was harsh when Draco tightened his grip and said, equally pleasant:
"I have no expectations of you, Potter. You should be pleased about that."
*
Subject: back again
From: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
Date: 10 March 2005 23:42
To: lord muck
you do like to make your point, don't you? do you have any idea how full the debating
chamber was today? bloody lucky those parchments didn't fall out onto the floor, would've
been fun trying to explain exactly what the wizengamot decree and emergency Auror Powers
were to the member for Guildford.
NOT TO MENTION WHY THE REGULATIONS WERE ON **PARCHMENT**
Subject: Out-of-Office Autoreply
From: The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 10 March 2005 23:43
To: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
This is an automated reply. The person you have contacted is unavailable at this time. Your message:
Re: back again
Date: 10 March 2005 23:42
has been received and will be read in due course.
Any subsequent emails will be queued. You will not receive this message again.
No Rest For The Wicked
Subject: (no subject)
From: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
Date: 11 March 2005 01:09
To: lord muck
this book is fucking brilliant. it's making me think i probably missed out on all this
great stuff when hermione went on about hogwarts a history.
i'm never taking the east palace lift ever again.
btw if you approve it and want breakfast catering services have said they'll do an
allnighter on the terrace bars.
Subject: Re: back again
From:The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 11 March 2005 01:55
To: bleeding heart liberal
They can't be photocopied, you idiot, they're Ministry documents.
I take it--from your refusal to address the issue--that the parallels I so painstakingly
drew for you became somewhat more apparent? I'm watching the debate right now,
and you're yawning. Surely everyone is too tired to keep up with this rubbish.
I shall come down to the Strangers Gallery to watch Blair and Clarke approve our
amendments with red faces.
Tomorrow (today?) we were supposed to be debating "Care of Cathedrals" in the
afternoon session. I suppose I can thank your Honourable friends for delaying that
particular form of torture, at least.
Subject: Re: (no subject)
From: The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 11 March 2005 02:03
To: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
>>this great stuff when hermione went on about hogwarts a history
If you ever compare me to Granger again I'll give your home address to Rupert Murdoch.
STRANGERS GALLERY
COMMONS DEBATING CHAMBER
2:21 am
There were four other Lords in the Strangers Gallery7 when Draco sidled in and took a seat at the back. The view wasn't terrific but the seats were comfortable, and sometime in the past couple of years Draco had developed a learned response to the sounds of political debating:
Sleep.
*
3:06 am
"Draco?"
He woke up with a start. Harry was crouched down in front of him, dark circles under his eyes.
"Done?"
"Nah, just a recess. We're going to keep going to get this through by the weekend. Bit bloody sick of the noes door."
Draco blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "How did you know I was here?"
"Email on PDA, bloody marvellous." Harry sat in the seat next to him and leaned back, closing his eyes.
Draco looked across at him, thought about the sulky, histrionic annoyance that plagued his school years, and shook his head. They sat in silence until the bell rang again.
"You should go home--"
"I'll wait," Draco said shortly, and tried very hard not to deliver a speech about unfair terrorist associations and living under suspicion, because there was preaching to the choir and then there was trying to get the choir to break some pretty fuckoff laws on the off-chance of new songbooks. "The expiry clause is the thing," he said instead.
"Hmm," Harry sounded thoughtful. He stood, watched the MPs filing back in to the chamber for a minute, and chewed his lip.
He looked about seventeen again. It was all very disconcerting, because Draco associated that face with a certain kind of saving-the-world attitude.
*
Subject: (no subject)
From: The Office of Lord Malfoy
Date: 11 March 2005 11:22
To: bleeding heart liberal
I think the term I'm looking for is Eleventh Hour.
Come on.
Subject: Re: (no subject)
From: Harry Potter (North Southwark & Bermondsey)
Date: 11 March 2005 15:03
To: lord muck
Oh ye of little.
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PRESS OFFICE (BBC News)
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT
5:38 pm
"...and this time an olive branch has been waved by the government when Tony Blair announced he will give MPs the chance to review the law in a year's time. He denies an accusation from Tory leader Michael Howard that this represents a "sunset clause in all but name". The move is aimed at ending the deadlock between the two Houses. After more than 30 hours of debate already, the bill will return to the Lords this evening to be approved."
*
Rm 407
HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (LORDS)
7:15 pm
Back on the couch. Harry's shoes were marginally better.
"We're going out."
"I am too bloody tired to move from this spot," Draco said. "You should be too."
"Sod that," chirped Harry, and Draco felt a warm crackle invigorate his muscles.
"It really betrays a complete lack of social graces to go using charms on someone without asking their permission," Draco grumbled.
"You're the one who always says I don't think like a wizard." Harry almost looked like he was pouting. It was unbearably attractive.
Draco snickered. "No, I always say you don't think. End of story." His coat--Aquascutum, a concession to fashion--landed on his head with a thwump. "All right. Where are we going?"
Harry fished in his coat pocket for a card. "Kennington," he read, "Sarf London Pacific."8 The card tumbled through the air to land on Draco's lap.
"A. Tiki. Bar." Draco looked around the room, just in case this was a joke for an audience, then back at Harry.
Grinning a bit too manically for Draco's peace of mind, Harry said, "They have wicked cocktails."
Of course. It would make some kind of bizarre sense that Potter was a umbrella-and-pineapple-slices fetishist. Draco narrowed his eyes. "In case it escaped your notice, I'm a Viscount. And you're a duly-elected. And this place has hula dancers."
"Up," Harry commanded, "and out, and quit whining." He gave Draco a little shove through the door, kicking it shut behind them.
The lift button was annoyingly stuck. Draco thumped it a few times until it shook loose and the light flickered on. Something occurred to him. "Either the thought of grass skirts and mai-tais really distracts you, or you're slipping in your crusade."
"I'm sorry?" Harry blinked at him as they got into the lift.
Heh. "Oh, nothing. Wicked cocktails, you--"
"It's temporarily a low priority." Harry cocked his head, raised his eyebrows. "Not forgotten."
"Ah, Harry," smirked Draco, "whatever you say."
"Fuck off." The pout again.
Draco laughed, and the lift doors opened.
*
7. STRANGERS GALLERY: "Strangers", in parliamentary parlance, refers to all those who are not familiar to Parliament, i.e., members of the public who are not Peers, MPs, or staff.
8. SOUTH LONDON PACIFIC: Once he had a few Singapore Slings, Draco forgot about the raffia lampshades and demonstrated he knew all the words to Bali Hai.
End, Part V ~ Part VI