The deadline was drawing awfully close. It had taken 3 owls and a tie for Edwin Glass to finally agree to meet Genevieve one evening. The place he’s selected was somewhat public. It was away from the ministry but in a private room. That was, to Gen, for one of two reasons. Either he feared bringing the Editor of Witch Weekly into his office in the Ministry, or he thought that he really was an eligible bachelor.

The very location he’d chosen was seductive, with all the reds and mysteries beyond each velvety curtain. Queen G had enjoyed many a night at Le Masque, but she’d never considered it the location to have a tête-à-tête with a famous political figure. Or well, she’d never had an interview with such at all. Edwin Glass was her first and wasn’t he already turning out to be quite the enigma?

For a witch that felt like late was simply when she decided, she made quite the effort this evening. After sending several owls and the tie to Glass, she owed it to him at least to arrive on time. Which she did. It was early for Gen.

At five past nine, Queen G pushed open the door labelled Louis XIV and entered the rather romantically lit room. A little magic caused the door to slowly swing shut and click as the Editor’s dark eyes fell on the Minister for Magic.

“It’s quite the relief to see I’ve not been stood up, Minister.” Her trademark bright white smile was flashed as Glass stood and offered his hand. Genny took it and leaned in close, glossy lips pressing against his cheek in a quick kiss. “I knew purple would be your colour.” Her voice was quiet, a private whisper in his ear in the already private room.

It was impossible to go out without some unfortunate interruption or assumption. The only socialising Edwin had done for months appeared to be related to winning support or deals for the British Ministry of Magic. Any family social engagements had been shoehorned in wherever possible, and often behind doors of family homes or his own front door.

Like much of his post that wasn’t immediately necessary to running the country, García-Gamp’s owls had fallen into the non-essential pile, for the juniors to reply to, only Holmes knew better than to let a junior reply to Witch Weekly. Le Masque was one of the few places he could enjoy himself, without his job being a distraction. There was plenty to be suggested by a private room, but the Editor of Witch Weekly being shown to it wasn’t going to be a far conclusion to jump to.

He was showing willing, by wearing the tie.

“Of course you did,” the Minister replied, with a gentle squeeze of her hand. He would be lying if the fact she’d leaned in to kiss his cheek hadn’t pleased him. His interactions with ladies these days were strictly professional, and he’d had to suppress his itch to make suggestive or flirtatious comments since taking office. With time and the atmosphere he worked in, the itch had rather dulled, but right now - in this environment - he could feel it again.

“You have impeccable taste,” Edwin ventured, gesturing to her outfit, which he didn’t want to dare remark on further than that, simply for not being an expert in women’s fashion. “I am your for a half hour or so,” he added, and offered her a glass of wine from the bottle he’d picked.

The subtle aroma of bergamot and citrus reached Gen’s senses when she leaned in and the minister gave her hand a squeeze.  Once more the smile was flashed at the mention of her impeccable taste when she drew back.

“When you’re the face of a magazine…” Dark eyebrows rose briefly, and she waved her hand before taking the offered glass. Half an hour wasn’t long enough to get the feel for the man behind the title that she truly wanted. It hadn’t occurred to Gen that she was lucky he’d agreed to meet her, she felt more that he was simply lucky she’d not harassed him further with owls. It was in his benefit to meet and chat with her, far more likely to have a positive article written.

“Then I suppose we best get started, Edwin.” She took a sip of the wine, taking a moment to savour. The minister, too, had exquisite taste. Moving towards the sofa, Gen placed her wine glass on the small wooden table and slipped a hand into her jacket pocket. A small bag was removed and opened. From the bag, she pulled a pink quick quotes quill and a small notepad.

“You don’t mind if I take notes do you, Edwin? It can be tricky to remember everything; especially when meeting the leader of Wizarding Britain.” A wink and another grin before she lowered herself onto the sofa. "I think we would all love to hear some of your secrets."

“When you’re the face of a magazine…” the Witch Weekly editor replied, and Edwin couldn’t help but think that whoever was on the front cover each week was ‘the face’.

“You don’t mind…?”
“Not at all.”
“… would all love to hear some of your secrets.”

“About my make-up routine?” Edwin replied with a smirk. He put down the wine bottle and joined her on the sofa, folding one leg over the other. “Or some dubious secret to success in Ministry politics?” He wasn’t being mean, just poking good humour at the way his words had been sensationalised in the past. Edwin didn’t mind the fact too often - better than being a tedious, grey drone of a man with no life and personality.

“Well, what would you like to know?”

“Politics are for the Daily Prophet, my readers want to know you, the man behind the suit.” A select few wanted to see behind the suit. With a click of her fingers, the quill on the coffee table suddenly sprang to life, standing to attention.

“Edwin, you don’t mind if I call you Edwin? Edwin, thank you so much for agreeing to a little sit down with me for our humble little magazine. We would really love to peel back the political layers to see the man beneath. So, I must ask the question burning in the minds of wizarding kind all over the country, how is it that such a powerful man like yourself hasn’t been snapped up yet by the right woman?” The Editor frowned, feigning concern. “Or man?”

The Minister couldn’t blame her for getting straight to the point, given their limited time, but it did induce a laugh out of social awkwardness between them.
“You make me sound like an onion,” he chuckled, and sipped his wine, stalling. “I hardly think that question has been burning in minds all over the country. It’s really not what they are concerned about in a Minister.” He shook his head and narrowed his eyes a little at her, but maintained a placating smile.

So this was how he was planning on playing the situation. Why bother to agree to meet her if he didn’t plan on giving her anything fun to take away?

“How can you be so sure? People want to know that their minister is real, with a life and understanding of the world, don’t you believe? Or are you married to the job?” Queen G winked at the Minister and took a sip of her own wine.

“No, not married to the job.” Edwin disagreed, though some nights lately had suggested otherwise. “Would having a wife or family give me a better understanding of the world? Or just a different one?” He asked, “Or should I re-read your book?”

“You’ve read my book? Perhaps I should feel honoured.”
“Depends if I am one of tens, or thousands.”

“Hm.” The witch’s smile was far less genuine now. “Always nice to have fans in high places.” Edwin toasted her with his glass to that, a smug smile on his lips.
“Is that the angle you want to take with this interview then? Who am I dating, how do I spend my time?” He ran a hand over his balding head. “Not going to reveal a list of hopeful suitors are you? Not that I would be entirely averse. I may not be married to the job, but it doesn’t leave time to meet people.” Short of him meeting Muggles, who had no idea what his job was or why he was important.

More forward, good. Genny crossed her leg over the other and sat back more comfortable on the sofa.
“I’m not interesting in roasting you.” She shook her head, her manner considerably more genuine than the show she gave the public. “Witch Weekly is a gossip magazine, my readers just want to read about Edwin Glass, not the Minister for Magic. I know what it’s like to be judged on what people think they know.” With a shrug, Genny smiled at the wizard.

“I can imagine it can be quite lonely?”
“It is. Running a country takes a lot of time - necessarily.” Edwin met her eyes and returned the smile. “I meet a lot of people, but for work. Nobody is going to want to compete with that… or maybe even should.” He gave a shrug.

“Perhaps you simply haven’t found the right person? I’ve always tried to be a believer of someone out there for all of us. Or has the Ministry made you too cynical for love?” Edwin laughed at the suggestion.
“Never too cynical!” He chuckled, “I just haven’t found the right one. I have met many lovely ladies, and worked with many too, but for one reason or another, we part company.” He peered at Gen suspiciously. “I have the sneaking suspicion I’m going to read why in Witch Weekly in the near future.” This was a scenario he had always considered would be on the horizon. His partners were in double figures, after all. He was sixty-one!

“My little birds may have mentioned something.” It was with a knowing grin that Gen spoke. “Your reputation precedes itself, Edwin.” Eyes glanced down at the pink quill putting every word spoken in black ink. “Are you particularly fastidious or did you simply enjoy the experience of shopping around?”

Here it is, Edwin thought to himself. Though he took it on the chin - having a history was nothing to be ashamed about, and as a man it was often applauded.
“I hope I was particularly fastidious with everyone in my past,” he replied in a low voice, “though I have certainly become more so in recent years. I would be lying to say I did not enjoy the company of the opposite gender. Would you say the same?”

“I’m a married woman, Minister.” Another wink followed up by a sip of the glass that was starting to empty.
“Of course.” Edwin replied, with a knowing look, and reached for the bottle. He was curious why he’d become Minister again.

“Have you ever loved?” Gen shuffled somewhat in the seat, trying to become more comfortable.

He might have told her they had half an hour at the outset, but neither of them appeared to notice the time as they opened the second bottle of wine forty-five minutes later. He loosened the satin tie, cheeks flushed red with the alcohol. Despite himself, and quite possibly unwisely, he was rather enjoying talking to Genevieve. They had hit an unforeseen rhythm in conversation, probably down to her experienced patter, his realisation of how lonely he really was and the rather fantastic wine.

“It’s not that,” Edwin continued, gesturing with his refilled wine glass, “I always imagined I’d marry, have a family, but fate hasn’t worked out for me.” He shrugged his round shoulders, “I wouldn’t rule them out now, but put it this way, Genny, I don’t think a witch in her twenties is going to look twice.” The older he got, the more odd it would be to have a young partner - especially if it was a thirty, forty year old gap. Witch Weekly made enough suggestion about Miranda and Ignan Storm and Edwin was not much younger than him.

“I don’t believe in there being just the one for each of us either,” he continued, the wine rather allowing the words to come, “seen so many of my friends and contemporaries lose their partners through circumstance, falling out of love, and yet find another to love now.” He sighed and his gaze settled on her glass, the corner of his lips curling in darker humour, “maybe there’s a prophecy somewhere to prevent me.”

The quill continued to scribble everything down, it’s supply of ink seemingly endless. Genny had quite forgotten about its scratches against her notepad, instead surprisingly rather enjoying the conversation with the Minister now he had relaxed. For a wizard who clearly hadn’t been eager to interview, he clearly was relishing the chance to really talk. Power apparently led to loneliness, a distance from everyone around you that was hard to close.

“Rubbish.” Genny shook her head and reached forward, returning her wine glass to the table. She waved a hand over the quick quotes quill and it immediately went limp, dropping to the table, once more lifeless. Twisting on the seat to better view the wizard, Gen frowned briefly.
“No prophecy. Just plain old bad luck or bad judgement.” she smirked knowingly, “I have both. You’re talking to the woman who’s trapped in a marriage to a man who’s rotting away in Azkaban for unspeakable crimes. At least you don’t have that preceding every acquaintance that you make.” A hand touched his forearm. “You’re not looking in the right place if you’re after a 20 something, Edwin.”

“… You’re talking to the woman who’s trapped in a marriage to a man who’s rotting away in Azkaban for unspeakable crimes…” Edwin glanced up to look at Gen properly, sympathetic to her situation, mostly owing to the amount of wine they’d imbibed. His glance to her hand might have been telling, but she had carried on with instructing him.

“You’re not looking in the right place if you’re after a twenty-something, Edwin.”
“I’m not really looking, that probably is the main problem,” past his appearance, obviously. He shrugged, looking like he might be about to ask where he should look for a twenty-something witch, when he frowned and looked at her with curiosity.

“Are you really still married?” The Minister asked. “How on earth’s that come about, or does it sell more books, magazines?”

Despite herself, Genny laughed. People often asked for a multitude of reasons. Some believed she was lying about the marriage still being in place, others hazarded that she was secretly waiting for her husband to escape Azkaban for them to take off together. But to sell more books? That was a new one.

“I wish!” Fingers gripped her wine glass as she shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe it does.” She’d rather hoped that it was the content in Witch Weekly that had led to the uptake in sales since her becoming editor rather than the squalid mess of her personal life.
“It takes two people to authorise a divorce. Even a lifetime sentence in Azkaban can’t take his right away from him if he refuses to sign.” She shrugged, surprisingly calm in her explanation. It wasn’t private information, people knew, she’d written enough about it. She’d learned to own it instead of letting it compromise her sanity.

“It’s something I’ve accepted.” There was a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she reached to give his arm a light shove. “Hey, it makes your own romantic problems pale in comparison. Think yourself lucky you never married a murderer.”

“Quite,” Edwin agreed with her, leaning away and back as she shoved him playfully. “My apologies, Genevieve, I did not mean to make light of the situation by putting it like that.” He returned her touch lightly, looking genuinely sorry, given how nice she was being now. “May I put you in touch with someone to look into that for you?”

It was the least he could do as a Minister - how could it possibly be that women were still married to Death Eaters against their wishes?! Genevieve was not a housewife from a poor background, she had power and status. She was in the public eye. That was partly why Edwin had thought she wasn’t being serious and it was just what she told everyone to enhance her brand. Then again, he was a man and could be naive about what went on in the world for women and their rights. It didn’t mean he could carry on ignoring it now.

Besides… it might win him brownie points with the Editor of Witch Weekly, and keeping the press on-side made everything easier.

Edwin raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to not being married, hm?”

Another sip of wine through, he resettled himself on the sofa, closer to Gen, elbow propped on the back, leg folded over, turned towards her.
“I was going to ask you where I should be looking for twenty-somethings, but you know, I’m not sure that’s the sort of witch I do want to look for a partner in, you know what I mean?” He gave half a shrug, “but out of interest, where do you tend to frequent,
 I mean - they…?”

“May I put you in touch with someone to look into that for you?”

Genevieve wasn’t even close to schooling her expression when Glass made the offer. Did the Minister for Magic just offer to help her get a divorce?!

“You mean you can’t just sign a Ministerial decree to free me from the tyranny of Mr Gamp?” She joked. Joking was the best way she’d found to stop herself from screaming in considerable exasperation. Years ago, she’d been beside herself at the lack of willingness to set her free that Leo had shown, but now she understood why; she could only guess how detached he now felt from the world outside and having her finally cut herself free from him was that final thread he had, being lost forever.

The toast brought out another smile as their glasses clinked and Gen took another sip. Now into her second bottle, she was starting to feel the effects, despite being rather accustomed to drinking large amounts regularly.

Once more Edwin mentioned twenty-somethings and Gen couldn’t help but smirk. There were, certainly girls out there who’d bed him just for the sake of bedding the Minister for Magic. They’d try to take him for a ride and ditch him as soon as the next best thing came along.

His next words caused the witch to laugh out loud, throwing her head back. In a matter of minutes, he’d offered to help her divorce and alluded to hitting on her?
“I am not twenty something, Edwin.” She grinned at him, dark eyes glinting playfully. Was this the wizard she’d heard about? The wizard with the reputation preceding him before becoming their fearless leader? Little birds had informed her that their new Minister was currently on his best behaviour.

“Perhaps you might prefer someone who’s lived a little and doesn’t have a father your age, hm?” It wasn’t cruel. It was fact. “Even if writing an article on the minister and his new barely post pubescent piece of ass will sell me a record load of copies. Our proprietor will at least double my salary.” The witch continued to grin playfully, teasingly.

Edwin laughed a little self-consciously at her description of fathers his age. Heavens, that would be true. He was very much going off the idea, even his libido might be trying to hold onto the thought. His ruddy cheeks were round above his smile, and his gaze lingered on her rather than glancing away, despite the comment.

“Witch Weekly doesn’t need something to be true to publish it, do they?” The Minister reasoned back, knowing it was a place for speculation which its readers often devoured as absolute fact due to their limited intelligence. It was a rhetorical question, he knew the rules of the press as well as she did. It was a poke at humour. They were rather more informal, and he was realising it was definitely longer than half an hour since she had arrived. Daresay, he was enjoying himself.

“Tell me you’ve not been alone all these years owing to that rat of a husband?” Edwin asked with a more serious expression. He didn’t want to suggest she’d had a string of lovers, but it was one way to find out what her current situation was.

Rat of a husband… Gen had a far obscener choice of words to describe Leo but none of them were hardly suitable for a chat, however informal, with the Minister for Magic. His question felt somewhat personal. Gen had spent the past 19 years asking other people questions. She’d taken up the role of reporter and then gossip queen because it meant that she could write about others. No one was about to gossip about the queen of gossip. Very few people ever really asked. They judged.

“You might need to define alone.” The witch winked, her wall of bravado having sprung up, a reliable coping mechanism that the public never saw behind.

But he’d been honest; or at least Gen felt he’d been honest. He’d seemed upfront after their first few moments of head butting. He’d seemed so genuine that she’d sensed the lonliness that she also felt.
“Nearly 14 years is a long time to stay faithful to a man that lied to you for 11 years.” Eyes glanced down to the glass that she gripped, rested on her lap. “Make your own judgements.”

There was a somewhat nervous laugh before Gen took a large gulp of her wine and turned back to Edwin, her expression far less serious than it had been a moment before.
“Goodness! I’m the one interviewing you, Edwin. Or I was. Was that some sneaky trick politicians use to turn the heat away from them? I’m normally more aware of it. But then, I don’t normally share wine with my sources.”

“You might need to define alone,” Genevieve replied, and Edwin’s lips upturned with amusement. ”… make your own judgements.” His smile faded, respecting that the question didn’t need a specific answer, and that he had very much got the gist.

The junction of their conversation brought the Editor to realise that their conversation had drifted away from an interview.
“… I don’t normally share wine with my sources.”
“You’re hardly here to grill me on policy,” Edwin shrugged, “and I have enjoyed our conversation.” He smiled once more, rounded, ruddy cheeks swelling up towards his eyes. He didn’t look all that threatening or grumpy when he genuinely smiled. Whether it was just the wine talking, or that he genuinely felt a little friendly towards García-Gamp for their refreshingly trivial interview, he wouldn’t be sure until he met her again sober.

“But we must leave it there,” the Minister reached out and put his glass down on the table, “for now,” he added without consciously realising. “I look forward to the line of hopeful witches at my door following your publication,” he joked lightly, “like old days.”

Glass looked nice when he smiled; far friendlier than the black and white pictures she’d seen of him in the Daily Prophet. Gen wasn’t sure if it was the smile she liked or the open manner at which he’d essentially admitted to loneliness. There was certainly an affinity felt with others of a similar ilk.

“But we must leave it there,” the end to their tête-à-tête was signalled and Genny drained the last of her wine. “for now,” Half an hour had turned into far longer and now the Minister was suggesting a second meet. Was it another interview that he wished for or something less professional?

“You’ll be overwhelmed by choice, Edwin.” Queen G winked at him and stood. “The 17th. I want details of this line of hopefuls.” With a wave of her hand, quill and parchment jumped into the air and floated towards her. They were deposited in her pocket. With Glass now stood in front of her, Gen touched his arm, leaning in to kiss each cheek. “
Thank you again for agreeing to this meet. It’s been a pleasure.”

And with that, Queen G gave the minister one last smile, turned on her heel and left the room.