Rufus sat at his desk, the early morning light barely filtering through the curtains of his office. His thoughts were still preoccupied with the day’s workload when Clara entered quietly, a small, elegant envelope in her hand.
"A letter has just arrived for you, Minister," she said, holding it out with an air of subtle significance.
Rufus's heart quickened when he saw the envelope. The familiar elegant, flowing script told him immediately that this was the letter he had been waiting for. Geneviève Delacroix. Finally.
He took the envelope carefully, feeling a strange mix of relief and curiosity as he broke the seal. Her handwriting was unmistakable, each letter meticulously crafted yet with a certain elegance that reflected her personality—sharp, refined, and never careless. As his eyes moved over the page, he began to read:
Dear Rufus,
I hope this letter finds you well. First and foremost, I must apologize for my silence these past few days. I imagine you’ve noticed my absence, and it’s only fair to explain why I’ve been unable to respond.
Shortly after our last exchange, I was unexpectedly called back to France by my uncle, Philippe Delacroix. His request left me with little time to prepare or send word. Family obligations, as I’m sure you understand, often have a way of taking precedence, whether we want them to or not.
The "important business" my uncle spoke of was, as you might guess, another attempt to arrange a marriage for me. I’m afraid it’s become something of a tradition for him. He’s intent on securing what he believes to be a ‘proper’ match, a union that benefits both families and solidifies our standing within the French wizarding world. I needn’t tell you how little interest I have in being reduced to a bargaining chip in such matters.
The man he chose is considered 'appropriate'—and I imagine by society’s standards, he would be. But the whole affair was as uninspiring as it sounds. These conversations about alliances and family legacies have become tiresome, and each time I sit through them, I can’t help but feel I’m being pulled further from the things that truly matter to me.
However, I don’t intend to bore you with the details of my family’s machinations. There is a more pressing reason I’ve been eager to write, and it concerns the plans we’ve discussed for the Ministry’s new initiatives.
Firstly, I was incredibly impressed by your proposal for the library aimed at supporting Muggle-born students. Such a forward-thinking project has the potential to change the very landscape of wizarding education. I’ve always believed that knowledge should be accessible to everyone, regardless of their background, and this library would be a beacon of hope for those who often find themselves at a disadvantage. It’s rare to see an initiative with such clear intent to level the playing field, and I would be honored to contribute however I can, particularly in terms of research and resources. There are some valuable tomes in France that could enrich the collection.
As for the Magizoological Reserve you’ve been planning, I must say it’s an idea I hold dear to my heart. Protecting magical creatures, especially in a time where their habitats and well-being are often overlooked, is crucial. I’ve spent years studying magical creatures, and I believe this reserve could be a model for others across Europe. The educational opportunities it would provide, alongside the sanctuary it offers, would be revolutionary. I’ve already begun to think of species we could introduce that would both thrive and enchant the public.
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That said, my time in France was not without its benefits. I met with several Magizoologists who were able to share insights into their own reserves and preservation efforts. I’ve taken some notes on methods that could enhance our project, and I’d love to share them when we next meet.
But amidst these discussions, my thoughts kept returning to you and our work together. It feels more important now than ever. The responsibilities we carry are immense, and at times it seems like the choices we’re asked to make are dictated more by duty than by desire. I find myself asking if that should be the way of things.
When I’m back in England, I look forward to resuming our correspondence in full and seeing these projects take shape. I’ve much more to say on the dragons and the other creatures we’ve been researching, but for now, I’ll leave you with this:
Do you ever wonder if we are too bound by the roles others expect us to play?
With warmest regards,
Geneviève Delacroix
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Rufus set the letter down slowly, absorbing her words. Not only was she deeply involved in their shared projects, but her personal reflections echoed something that had been lingering in his own thoughts—this notion that they were both caught in webs spun by others.
Her insights on the library and the Magizoological Reserve only reinforced how valuable she was, both as a collaborator and as someone he respected immensely. But there was something more, something that simmered just below the surface of her carefully chosen words.
Dear Gene,
First, let me say how relieved I am to hear from you. I must admit, your absence was noticed more than I care to admit, but I understand now the reason for your delay. Family obligations have a way of asserting themselves when we least expect—or desire—them to. I can only imagine how trying the situation must have been for you.
I do appreciate you sharing the details, though I won’t dwell on them if they cause you discomfort. I will say this: I’ve never thought of you as someone who could ever be reduced to a mere ‘match.’ You are far too brilliant, too sharp, and too independent for that. Should you ever need a distraction from such arrangements, I hope you’ll remember that our work together can offer you a reprieve from those burdens.
Now, on to the matters at hand. Your support for the library project is exactly what I had hoped for. The way you’ve articulated its potential means more than you know. I believe you’re right: this could be a cornerstone of a new era of magical education. There’s something deeply satisfying about the thought of generations of Muggle-born students gaining the knowledge they need to excel in our world. Your offer to contribute from your resources in France is most generous, and I’m certain any such addition will enrich the collection in ways we can only begin to imagine.
As for the Magizoological Reserve, I am thrilled by your enthusiasm. Your experience with magical creatures is invaluable to this project, and I am certain it will benefit greatly from your involvement. The connections you’ve forged in France could be an essential asset. I’m very eager to hear your thoughts and read the notes you’ve gathered from the Magizoologists there. We’re still in the early stages, but your vision aligns with my own. With your guidance, we could set a new standard for how magical creatures are cared for and understood.
I’ll make sure to schedule time for us to review your notes together. We can finalize the plans for both the library and the reserve, as well as discuss the species you’ve been researching. Dragons, particularly—there is much more to explore there, and your insights are indispensable.
On a personal note, your final question struck me. Do I ever wonder if we are too bound by the roles others expect us to play? More often than I care to admit, lately. It’s as though I spend so much of my time fulfilling the duties placed upon me by others, that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to act freely, without the weight of expectation. I suppose that’s part of the burden of leadership, but it seems we both find ourselves chafing under the constraints of others’ designs.
That said, I believe there’s a way through it. We cannot simply reject the roles thrust upon us, but we can reshape them, bend them to suit our own vision. And in that, perhaps we find the freedom we’re searching for.
I’m glad to hear you’ll be returning to England soon. We have much to accomplish, and I’ve missed your counsel. Until then, I will continue preparing on my end, and look forward to the moment we can bring these projects to life together.
With respect,
Rufus Scrimgeour