prompt #32 for goldgraves! (I can't imagine either of them saying that to each other)
“I’d ask you to stay, but I don’t like you.”
The words seemed to ring in the silence that followed. Tina Goldstein carefully kept her gaze riveted to the back of Madame Picquery’s head, trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t start laughing. The president had wrapped her hair in a lovely purple scarf with black embroidery, with her usual two blonde kiss curls peeking out against her cheekbones. Don’t laugh. Focus on the scarf.
“Very well,” Percival Graves said, to the British Minister of Magic. “I don’t like you very much, either. I will happily leave.”
“Gentlemen,” Madame Picquery said, turning her head and disrupting Tina’s attempts to remain calm. “Can we cooperate? And might I remind everyone, their presence or lack-of in this room is dictated by myself alone.”
“I would, gladly,” Percival said. “Were the Minister not the enemy of democracy.”
“Enemy?” the man exclaimed, puffing up (what was it, Tina wondered, about male politicians popping their chests out like birds trying to find a mate?). “You, Mr Graves, are a socialist!”
“Alright,” Madame Picquery said, nodding sagely. “I understand.”
“Of course you do,” The Minister nodded. Tina tried not to look at the Minister’s own people, who were seated behind him in the palatial office, all of them carefully looking at their notes. Struggling, Tina assumed, as much as she was to keep a straight face.
“Since I can’t kick both of you out of my office, as that would derail the point, I am afraid I agree with the Minister and you need to go, Mr Graves,” Seraphina said.
“What do you mean, both of us?” The Minister exclaimed.
“Well, you’re both being complete idiots and I find them tiring, especially with all the hormones wafting about like a boy’s locker room,” Picquery said. “But again, I do need you present in order to come to a trade agreement. Mr Graves, please go take a coffee break. A long one.”
“Fine,” Percival said. Turned and then stopped, pointed to Tina, and added, “but I’m taking my Auror. She’s laughing at me-”
“I am not!” Tina exclaimed.
“-and needs to be reprimanded.”
To her credit, Seraphina Picquery didn’t bat an eyelash. “Good,” she said. “Goldstein, please make sure Mr Graves is occupied for the next forty minutes, I don’t want him bursting in here with a clever remark.”
“This,” Tina said to Percival, after she followed him into the hallway. “Is why everyone thinks Americans are crazy.”
“Oh, everyone already knew I’d be asked to leave,” Percival said. “The Minister hasn’t liked me since I turned down his daughter. He thought it was a lovely match, and it would have been were it made in Hell.”
“Goodness,” Tina exclaimed, faux-aghast. “You mean there was an offer of marriage? Mr Graves, you could have easily slept your way to the top! And here you are, gallivanting about with little old me-“
She was forced to suddenly stop when Percival immediately turned, quickly backing her up against the wall. He must have seen his moment, because for once the very busy corridor was completely empty. “Little?” he asked, grinning. Whenever she wore heels, he had to lean up to kiss her; and she was wearing her favourite pair that day.
She let herself be distracted for a moment – he was a very distracting man – then pulled her lips from his. “Coffee, Mr Graves,” she said. “Shall we get some? I think,” she said, sliding her foot along the back of her calf. “There’s some in your office.”
He smiled. “I think you're right. About forty minute's worth.”
