The sun cast a golden glow through the high windows of the Ministry of Magic, but within the meeting room, the atmosphere was far from warm. Rufus Scrimgeour sat across from Henry Delacroix, both men wearing expressions of polite diplomacy, their conversations flowing smoothly but with an unspoken tension lingering in the air.
Rufus had always prided himself on his ability to navigate delicate political waters, and today was no different. The conversation with Henry had moved past the personal proposals of the previous day—Genevieve’s future had been left hanging in the air, like a note unplayed. Neither of them spoke of it, and yet both knew that their relationship had shifted.
Henry was a master of subtlety, just as Rufus had expected. The older man didn’t press on the subject of marriage, nor did Rufus raise it. But as they discussed the formalities of their Ministries and policies, there was a silent understanding that something more personal had been put into motion. Rufus was acutely aware that his connection to Genevieve could change his political landscape, whether he acted on it or not.
As the two men exchanged pleasantries about ongoing cases of international smuggling and border control, Rufus felt the weight of the situation. He couldn’t afford to ignore the implications of what had been discussed the day before. Genevieve’s future was now a part of his own.
Henry, for his part, remained professional, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes that Rufus couldn’t miss.
“So, Minister,” Henry said, pausing briefly as if weighing his next words carefully. “I must say, Cornelius Fudge made quite the interesting proposal when we last spoke.”
Rufus raised an eyebrow, but kept his expression neutral. “Fudge? What did he have in mind?”
Henry’s lips curled into a faint smile, clearly enjoying the subtle intrigue. “Oh, nothing too surprising—he expressed a strong interest in fostering stronger relations between our Ministries. He’s looking toward the next election already, it seems. Always planning ahead, that one.”
Rufus couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Fudge always has a plan, doesn’t he?”
“He certainly does,” Henry said, his voice almost too casual. “He was quite eager to suggest a partnership of sorts, but, of course, I found it rather amusing. Here he is, trying to court my support, when you and I have a rather… personal matter between us.” Henry’s eyes twinkled mischievously, though his tone remained respectful. “I can’t say he has much leverage at the moment.”
Rufus leaned back slightly, observing the French Minister. He was intrigued by Henry’s candor, but he knew better than to show his full hand. The fact that Cornelius was already making moves was no surprise—Scrimgeour had expected Fudge to try something soon. But the fact that Fudge was approaching Henry for support? That was rich. The man clearly underestimated the depth of the relationships already in play.
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“Cornelius is ambitious,” Rufus said, keeping his tone measured. “But he underestimates the complexity of certain alliances. I appreciate your discretion on this matter, Henry.”
Henry gave a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling as if Rufus had said something especially clever. “Of course. I would never presume to get involved in such trifling matters.”
There was a shared understanding now. Henry found Fudge’s maneuvering amusing, even if it was entirely expected. And Rufus, though silently amused as well, was growing wary of the growing ambitions that lay beneath Fudge’s eager front.
Still, there was business to discuss. Rufus leaned forward, steering the conversation back to official matters. “As for our Ministries, Henry, I wanted to discuss a more concrete form of cooperation. The world is becoming increasingly unstable—there’s too much dark activity stirring in the shadows. I think a mutual aid policy between our Ministries could be beneficial for both of us. An agreement that strengthens our resources and intelligence-sharing.”
Henry nodded thoughtfully. “You mean a more formal alliance?”
“Precisely,” Rufus replied. “We’ve worked together in the past on various small matters, but I’m talking about something more robust. A mutual aid policy that ensures, should any major threats arise, we can act swiftly and decisively together.”
The French Minister appeared to consider this seriously, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. “And what would this entail, exactly?”
“We could establish joint task forces for handling dark wizard activities that cross borders,” Rufus suggested. “Intelligence-sharing protocols, shared access to certain resources, perhaps even coordinated raids when necessary. We’ve already seen how dark forces are spreading—Voldemort may be gone, but the remnants of his followers aren’t.”
Henry leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It’s an interesting proposition, Scrimgeour. One that could certainly be beneficial for both our Ministries. But of course, such an agreement would require careful planning, and approval from both of our governing bodies.”
“Of course,” Rufus agreed. “This isn’t something we’ll rush into. But I believe it’s worth pursuing. The risks we face aren’t going away—they’re only growing.”
Henry nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful but guarded. “I’ll give it due consideration, Rufus. And I’ll see what my people think of the idea.”
The two men exchanged a glance, and once again, the unspoken tension hung in the air. They both knew that their conversation had layers—official matters on the surface, personal matters beneath. Henry’s amusement at Fudge’s proposal was evident, but there was no denying that alliances were shifting, and the political landscape was growing more treacherous by the day.
As the meeting wound down, Henry stood, offering Rufus a firm handshake. “We’ll speak again soon. And do let me know if anything changes regarding Genevieve. I imagine that will require some… thought.”
Rufus nodded, his face betraying nothing. “I’ll keep that in mind, Henry. And thank you for your time.”
The French Minister gave a polite nod before turning to leave, his dark robes sweeping behind him as he exited the room. Rufus remained seated for a moment, his mind turning over the possibilities. He had expected official discussions, but the personal element that Henry had introduced was something entirely new.
And then there was Fudge.
Rufus knew he couldn’t afford to be complacent. The Ministry, the elections, and now the potential alliance with the French—it was all a delicate game. And every move mattered.