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London, D&D Holdings Headquarters,
Narcissa was nervous. She never imagined she'd be that vulnerable, that anxious to hold onto that Muggle job. She used to be a proud, stoic woman, using her mind more than magic. But now, she was a mere office clerk, finally a regular employee with full salary and benefits.
Finally, she was able to barely manage her household. The massive Malfoy Manor required too much attention and maintenance. Even the house-elf, Dobby, once their own, was gone. But still, she felt it was better than those nights spent on the street.
She never wanted to return to that. Not now, when the hatred against Purebloods was on the rise. Although Lucius Malfoy was nowhere to be found, the Malfoy name was a regular in the papers, reminding all that she was married to a Death Eater. She had no one to talk to in the office building other than her direct superior, a Squib, Martha Rockwell.
She felt ashamed of wearing that wedding ring, but she kept it on, holding onto that memory of Lucius. She was focused and ready to sacrifice her mental peace and exhaust herself at work. She was ready to give up everything to give her son a good life.
But that day, she was more nervous. It was akin to her actual first day at work. Dudley Dursley had left Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday. Martha had informed her that Dudley had an important meeting with an organization called IWC. While Martha wasn't that aware of magical stuff, Narcissa understood it. So, she was handed the thick folder of papers and ordered to accompany Dudley Dursley as his secretary.
She didn't fear the young man, but she feared the power and wealth he held. It unnerved her how much he had gained in such a short span of life. The same age as her son, but standing on a far higher level than anyone else.
Over the months, she had truly come to understand the grand scale that was D&D Holdings. And that was only the Muggle business. She wasn't allowed to know about the magical side.
It's a simple job. I'm only to assist him with papers. I have trained for months for this. She told herself.
Narcissa wasn't a working woman in the past. In fact, she had never worked a job in her entire life. Lucius Malfoy was rich enough to never need his wife to go out there and work for someone.
And now, she was working directly under the richest wizards in the country, if not the world.
Quickly, Narcissa took out the small mirror that Martha had gifted her. She looked at herself, ensuring her face looked clear. Again and again, she had been reminded by her superior that looks mattered for secretaries.
Initially, she was doubtful. But then, she saw the secretaries of Edwin and other higher executives. The Muggle women were beautiful. So, she tried to dress like them: dark, thin stockings, a grey knee-length office skirt, and a white shirt. Hair made silky and beautifully left untied. Minimalistic makeup, yet beautiful.
But still, she had added a pearl necklace around her neck to look more formal. It made her feel less naked. It was embarrassing overall, having never been outside dressed like that, where her bodily curves were on such brazen display. Even worse, she was going to IWC, where other wizards would see her. Wizards who'd know her.
"Ma'am, we've arrived."
The spacious car finally stopped some blocks away from the IWC's hidden entrance. It was an upscale, Muggle cafe with massive glass windows. Right away, she noticed Dudley inside, seated at a table, dressed in formal wizard robes.
There's nothing to be ashamed of. I have to tolerate this until Draco finishes Hogwarts.
Giving herself a pep talk, Narcissa grabbed the bag full of papers and left the company car. She walked, her dark heels knocking on the pavement. She could feel eyes directed at her, men's gaze.
And from the looks of it, her boss' gaze was on her too, waving at her from inside.
The worst has passed. I'm sure of it.
With that in mind, she walked into the cafe. It was all empty except for Dudley and two people behind the counter, working.
"Good morning, Mr. Dursley." Narcissa greeted him as trained. "These are the papers."
His eyes…
She felt frozen, seeing him unashamedly look at her, from her stocking-clad legs, to her skirt that clung to her hips, then her curving waist, noticeable in that fitting shirt, and then her swells, modestly covered. Finally, he looked up at her face and smiled back.
While Dudley was tolerable. It horrified her that other wizards in IWC would leer at her in far more perverse ways.
"Narcissa, while I very much treasure this attire and seriously, you look stunning, I think your clothes aren't suitable for the IWC meeting," he seriously stated. "This dress code is only for Muggle office space. You should get changed. I have no desire to humiliate you before those old fossils, not when you represent my name now."
Without realizing, Narcissa felt her chest deflate, and her shoulders relaxed. For an unknown reason, a wave of warmth spread throughout her body. The young man, her boss, stopped looking threatening.
"I… I apologize."
"No need, we still have time. Use the bathroom, apparate home, and dress in something fitting for a witch. Best to keep it simple."
That eased her beyond anything. Nodding, she rushed towards the bathroom.
"Narcissa! You're forgetting something."
She looked back and stiffened, worried. "Yes?"
"The bag. Leave the papers, I need to read them."
"Of course, Mr. Dursley."
Nervousness, calm, and more emotions combined turned her into a mess. It was the worst feeling in the world to know your fate, your livelihood depending on another person's mood. She hated that feeling as it twisted her personality. It was hard to manage between being a stoic, noble, pureblood lady, which she had been all her life, and a simple office clerk.
But still, it was a relief that Dudley was highly professional. Enough to care about her modesty.
####
Since Cornelius was compromised by big money, Dumbledore wasn't persecuted by the Ministry for his outspoken belief that Voldemort had returned. Although Dumbledore was no longer the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, he was still the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. And Dudley had every intent to make use of that.
Once Narcissa returned, dressed in a simple, regal, dark grey one-piece that covered her whole body except for her hands and face, they walked into the IWC building.
Dudley, being famous, be it Muggles or wizards, they all looked at him. Then they looked at the beautiful, mature-looking blonde beauty walking behind him, holding a leather document case.
"You will be seated right behind me, to the right," Dudley informed her of what was to come. "When I mention a document, pass the marked stack to the ICW staff. They'll handle the rest. Don't speak, even if someone addresses you directly. And don't look into Dumbledore's eyes, no matter what happens."
"Understood, Mr. Dursley."
With that, they gained entry into the hidden building. It was a simple revolving door that allowed wizards entry to the magical side of the building without doing anything special.
The lobby was grand, high. But having seen MACUSA headquarters, it didn't amaze him that much. He just walked over to the reception and gave his name. In no time, he was guided to the ICW's assembly hall.
"Ah, you're here," Dumbledore greeted, with a solemn nod. "I fear I cannot say much, as I must preserve my neutrality. There will be forty members present today, representing various corners of the world. You shall be seated among us, as the matter at hand concerns you directly. When I call your name, you may speak. At the end, a straightforward vote shall be held—hands raised in plain view—to determine whether your petition is accepted or declined."
Dudley nodded, expecting that much.
"Mrs. Malfoy." Dumbledore greeted Narcissa in the end.
She just nodded her head without looking, without speaking.
After that, Dumbledore walked away. Dudley was guided by an IWC clerk and taken to a massive round table in the center of the assembly hall. It was insanely massive, larger than the size of the entire Great Hall in Hogwarts.
Around that huge table were cushioned chairs, countless of them. The middle of the table was covered in gigantic stacks of books, thousands perhaps. The books moved magically on their own, opening and closing. Nearly a thousand quills also hovered around the books, documenting something in them every now and then.
Wait, how do I look beyond the books when the meeting starts?
When he looked up, he couldn't see the ceiling. Instead, there was bright blue sky, the same as outside. There were magical birds flying even. And then, around the edges of the assembly hall were tall visitor stands.
Nonetheless, Dudley was guided to his chair. He sat down and waited with Narcissa right behind him.
One by one, old wizards and witches started appearing and taking seats. But one thing was noticeable. They only took seats after they looked at Dudley and shared a greeting with a silent, distant nod.
Feeling out of place as the only young man, Dudley chuckled. Heck, even Narcissa looked out of place as the assistants of other IWC members were also old fossils.
Forty seats were eventually occupied. In the end, Dumbledore appeared. Not in a seat, but instead, the old man appeared in the middle of that giant circular table. The stack of books vanished, replaced by an empty stage as the center of the table became hollow.
Dumbledore came up from underground, something akin to an elevator.
Claps!
The ICW members clapped for the old man. Dumbledore's popularity was still strong.
"Today, we are assembled for a matter of grave importance. A decision lies before us—one that may shape the very future of wizardkind. Imagine a wizarding world more tightly bound in economic kinship. A wizarding world that not only dwells alongside Muggles, but labours in harmony with them." Dumbledore gave his starting speech, his voice magically enhanced automatically.
"...and thus, I believe, it is only right that we lend our full attention to young Mr. Dursley. For if one sets aside the matter of age, one cannot help but see the enormity of his contributions. Indeed, I dare say they surpass even my own. After all, a Dark Lord he vanquished afflicts every corner of our globe—the Dark Lord of poverty, of stifled potential and scarce opportunity. Mr. Dursley—you may speak. Seated."
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