How Does the Bellwether Stand Today?
LOCATION: Bellwether Inn, Diagon Alley DATE: November 7, 2020 @everlastinglavender
Draco fidgeted with the much-creased parchment in his hands, eyeing the front door of the Bellwether Inn balefully. He didn’t need to look down at the message to remember its contents; the seventeen times he’d re-read them since it had arrived three days ago had been more than enough to sear that into his brain. He knew what the letter said -- he just wasn’t sure he believed it.
Once upon a time, the Malfoys had been known as some of the most generous philanthropists in all of Wizarding Britain -- even if it was nearly as widely known that they weren’t making such donations out of pure generosity. Still, no one had turned away their gold even if it did come with certain strings or caveats attached; the money had been too alluring and the Malfoy name not one with which to be lightly trifled or offended.
But that had been then. These days, there was far too much baggage attached to that name; far too much blood seen on that money. Even their most regular donations to places like St. Mungo’s had been turned down in the immediate aftermath of the war, no one wanting to help the Malfoys wash clean their bloody reputation by throwing some gold around, as the multitude of articles in the Daily Prophet had bloviated when they’d tried. Some places and organizations -- the aforementioned St. Mungo’s, for instance -- had gradually, grudgingly let down their guard enough to accept donations again eventually...but it was nothing like it had once been, no in the amounts given nor in the accolades received in turn.
Malfoy gold no longer bought favors or favor -- and yet, the letter in Draco’s hands indicated that things might finally be changing on that front. Why else would Brown have sent it, if she wasn’t open to accepting the donation she’d solicited? Well...there were a host of reasons really, but Draco was trying not to think about them too much. If he did, he’d turn tail and leave...
Instead, he walked inside.
Lavender Brown wasn’t hard to find. It had been more than twenty years since Draco had been inside the Bellwether, accompanying his father on meetings much like this one in easier times, but he remembered where the private meeting rooms were located -- and the place hadn’t changed. The Bellwether Inn was one of the oldest establishments in Diagon Alley, and it had weathered more regime changes than most family trees. It wasn’t about to redecorate just because the Minister for Magic was a progressive anymore than it had redecorated when the Dark Lord fell -- or rose, for that matter. Either time.
Draco wondered if Brown had chosen the old inn as the setting for today’s conversation in order to make a particular point, or simply because she preferred not sullying her own home or reputation with the presence of a Malfoy. He might have taken some offense at the idea that his money was good enough to entertain but he himself was not, had he not become used to that idea a long time ago -- and had he not himself been relieved to be sparred the unpleasantness of having a werewolf in his home.
Pushing aside the thought of what he was meeting in favor of focusing on whom, Draco forced a smile and walked in. The irony of meeting Lavender in the Marigold Meeting Room was enough to lend brief veracity to his cheerful expression as he said, “Good afternoon, Ms. Brown. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”
