4 days had passed and with no expectation of a response to her owl, Genny had been pleasantly surprised when the letter was brought into her office by one of the assistants.
“Well strip me down and throw me on a hippogriff…” What on earth could he want?

So Genny had sealed her diary off from 1o’clock today for the rest of the afternoon.

At 1:20pm, she entered the small café. It was quite a jump from a private room at Le Masquerade to this quaint muggle café. In her sparkly purple high heels, the witch looked decidedly out of place. Dark eyes scoured the room, teenagers and muggles in their early twenties sat staring at screens, barely speaking to one another. Moving through, slowly as she watched people, Genevieve found a small corner booth near the window which she chose to occupy while she awaited the Minister.

A few minutes later and an order of an ‘iced coffee’ later, Genny was oddly pleased to see Edwin walking through the door and glancing across the small café.
“Not the usual place that I would choose to commiserate a loss, Edwin.” Her grin was warm as she stood to greet him.

“Depends if one chooses to see it as such.” Edwin replied smoothly, holding out his hand as if to shake hers. Once grasped gently, he leaned forward to place a kiss on each of her cheeks. A maybe familiar greeting for the second time on meeting as a Minister, but they had met in the past under different guises so they were hardly strangers. Friends at the very least.

He took the seat opposite her, loosened his collar and tie, and plucked the lunchtime menu from between the salt, pepper and tomato ketchup gathered on the table. He offered it to Genevieve to look at first, should she not have already examined it while she was waiting.

“No, it’s a stone’s throw from the office, and you do get the odd person in here, but normally only those comfortable in the outside world.” He glanced around them, observing the students. “And nobody much pays attention.” One thing technology was being rather good at helping. A blissful ignorance, a lack of observation. It was only the damned cameras that could cause a problem.

A hitwizard in Muggle clothes stepped inside, looked about herself and then took a seat with a good vantage of the Minister and the door. Holmes had seen through the placating excuse, and Edwin’s minders were never far behind. He decided not to mention the observer.

“Was the bottle commiseration for an entire lack of votes?” He asked, turning his attention back to his lunch companion. “Because the only queue at my door has been entirely to do with my work, sad to report.”

“It wasn’t a crushing defeat.” Genny said over her glass of oddly cold coffee. “Longbottom had 15% of the votes. You had nearly 7%. I think you tapped into the middle aged housewitch fan base.” He was perfect for a certain type of witch sat at home wondering why her husband had long since stopped loving her. Of course, there’d be gold digging and power hungry witches who’d want to take Glass for a spin, but which one of those would really vote anonymously for him? Gen, herself, had voted for Kurby. Yet, in truth, that has been only in the hopes that others would and he’d grow annoyed. The git shouldn’t have been so tight-lipped about his boss.

“As for the queues, perhaps you need to lower security on Level 1 so they can actually be formed.” G placed her drink back on the table between them and lifted the menu he’d offered. “Or stop meeting questionable magazine editors in secretive locations” she winked and looked down at the menu.

Thoughts had crossed Genny’s mind as to why Glass would ask to meet up with her again. It wasn’t a formal meet so it could hardly be about her short exposé involving his assistant. It was too long ago now, anyway. Why bother after weeks? So, what did the wizard want? Everyone wanted something.

“Just double mine then,” Edwin replied with an amused smile, his cheeks round above it.
“… or stop meeting questionable magazine editors in secretive locations.”
“You’re not questionable,” Edwin retorted, frowning.

He was about to add to it when they were interrupted by a young man in an apron, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing a sleeve of geometric tattoos, ready to take their late lunch order. Edwin ordered without a glance at the menu. He didn’t usually eat lunch when he was working, he’d take a walk and consider an earlier dinner when he was a Department Head. As a Minister lunches were often for strategic reasons.

One inked muggle hipster had departed with their order, Edwin smiled at Gen.
“Hardly secretive, if it were I’d be in a disguise and we’d have had a codeword.” He mimicked a moustache and a hat with his hands and then dropped them back to the table top, leaning forward on his forearms so he didn’t have to speak too loudly.

“Was my contact any use for your inconvenience?” He had sent on details for someone who might have been able to help her finally divorce Gamp in Azkaban. Edwin could quite understand not wanting to be associated with a Gamp. He’d not long ago thrown another one into Azkaban after declaring him insane.

It wasn’t why he’d asked her to lunch, but it was a good stalling tactic.

“Hardly secretive, if it were I’d be in a disguise and we’d have had a codeword.” Glass joked and Genny leaned forward to mimic his movements.
Before Genny could really respond with excited fantasies of being a spy in disguise in all sorts of exciting assignments, there was a mention of the contact shared to divorce her husband that brought her crashing back down to reality.

“Still married.” Gen gave a shrug. “She’s on the case but I’m not getting my hopes up. He’s not signing anything if he gets nothing in return.”
But Genny didn’t want to talk about Leo Gamp. Inconvenience now felt like the right word.

“Codenames too?” Her eyes widened and she grinned as she made a complete 180˚ turn on the conversation. “It would be like some old muggle cold war romance novel! Lovers meeting through a gap in the Berlin wall to share intel and fantasies.” Her voice was akin to if she were sharing a secret for only his ears. An expression evenly set between thoughtful and playful presented itself on Gen’s features as she looked down at her coffee. “I’ve always imagined I’d have made an excellent character in one of those stories. Femme fatale… Probably murdered in the end; something really gruesome.”

Edwin gave G a consolatory smile, though was glad his contact was on the case. There was what he could still do in his role to be considered, but a Minister rarely got involved in individual matters. Nothing to stop Gen and other separated Azkaban wives starting a campaign to make it less of an individual matter…

“Murdered!” Edwin scoffed, “Not at all, you’d be far too pretty and clever to end up the victim.” He glanced away, still smiling though. “Maybe if the editing grows boring you could write one. You’ve seen enough secrets.” Edwin laced his fingers together on the table top.

“Had an obliviator in my team in the war obsessed with giving us code names. He’d go for themes, birds one day, beasts another, and then once he went for cities and mixed everyone up. It was chaos, so we managed to persuade him to stick to the same ones for a bit, so there were a set of obliviators going round known as butcher, baker… all these professions. Not exactly sexy or conspiratorial. Muggles didn’t know who we were anyway.” Edwin had neglected to explain which name he was dubbed at the time, too busy receiving a black coffee and adding sugar to keep him going.

“What about your codename though? You’ve already got a nom de plume, Queen G.”

Pretty and clever. Gen knew pretty. But clever? Most people didn’t believe that with her lack of NEWTs. Why would anyone leave Hogwarts early to follow the boyfriend that would turn into a Death Eater? Certainly, not clever; or at least she hadn’t been.

“I can’t see the editing ever getting boring. For all of the secrets.” And what else would she do other than write? No one would hire her for anything else.

As Glass spoke, Genny seemed thoroughly engaged. Her bright eyes made comfortable eye contact, smiling as she listened. The index finger of her left hand was tracing the rim of her glass.

“I have Barnabas Cuffe to thank for that name.” She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table between them. “When I quit the Daily Prophet for Witch Weekly, he was…less than impressed.” She rose an eyebrow before grinning again. “Told me I was to be a Queen of an anthill. I’m not sure he expected me to like that idea.”

“I’m not sure Witch Weekly is much of an anthill, even if the circus[1] does often wish to crush it with a foot,” Edwin replied with a well-meant smile.

In comparison, the Daily Prophet was more of a sturdy wood box, which a carpenter had worked on for years, oiling and sanding, and had remained a coffee table for three generations without anyone seeing need to replace as it was doing such a good job.

“Cuffe’s nickname isn’t barnacle for nothing, I can’t see him moving from the Prophet for years to come, so you were right to get out and be ambitious elsewhere. Then when he’s finally going ga-ga, well,” Edwin gave Gen a knowing look, “sometimes it’s who you know rather than what you know for that job.” Knowing the Minister could be very handy on both sides.

“Or are you considering your own mollusc act under Misslethorpe?”

1.	the Ministry

Thanks to the past week that Genny had had, her paranoia went into overdrive at the mention of the Minister for Magic’s Ministry wishing to crush her magazine with a foot. It didn’t matter that he’d said it with a smile. His letter to meet had come the day after the fiasco of letters and he’d still not really explained why he’d requested a meeting. His owl had seemed somewhat informal other than addressing it to ‘Editor’. Informal but also not personal.

All Gen could do was offer a smile back, her own not quite reaching her eyes at that moment.

“sometimes it’s who you know rather than what you know for that job.”

Gen’s eyebrow raised as she listened to Glass. Was he suggesting she go for Cuffe’s job when he finally gave it up?

“We both know that Cuffe’s going to die in that Editor’s office while he’s cussing and screaming insults at the grunt level assistant that put the wrong sugar in his coffee. That would be a lot to live up to, Edwin.” The editor winked and took another sip of iced coffee.

“Besides, you should be wishing for Cuffe’s long and healthy life as Editor-in-chief; you’ve got him where you want him.” The Daily Prophet was in the Ministry’s pocket. Gen wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the Ministry paid them for the pleasure. “Me? I’m unpredictable and reckless. Like a psycho ex-girlfriend.”

“We both know that Cuffe’s going to die in that Editor’s office while he’s…” Genevieve remarked, and the Minister didn’t hide his amusement at agreeing with the sentiment. Barnacle Cuffe would be there as long as his marbles were intact and he hadn’t lost his edge. He was excellent at his job - the personalities of people in the media were always a little odd, but who was truly ‘normal’? He wasn’t, that was for sure.

The hipster with the tattooed arms served a cup of tea to the female hitwizard sat in his periphery vision, and then approached with Edwin’s drink and their cutlery. Their food would soon be following.
“… I’m unpredictable and reckless. Like a psycho ex-girlfriend.”

“Are you really?” Edwin asked, scepticism clear in his voice, “or is that just what you’d like us all to believe?” She had after all, penned a book about discovering she was married to a Death Eater, and she now had a job that thrived on the misfortune of others. “And I’m not wishing Cuffe’s tenure to be curtailed, there are other newspapers, other positions, if one is not … motivated by shallow scandal.” He shrugged, “though if you are to believed, then I suppose…” he trailed off, teasing the magazine editor, and because he had seen their salads arriving.

“Out of interest,” Edwin asked, once they were alone again, “how do you perceive me?”

“…or is that just what you’d like us all to believe?” Glass saw through the front put up by the witch on a daily basis. Not only did her job demand it, but, for Gen, protecting herself meant that she needed to act a certain way. It made her less vulnerable.
Fortunately, he didn’t press the issue of her wanting the public to see her a certain way. He did, however, question her motivations. This simply incited a laugh from the witch as the tattooed muggle brought over their lunches.

A chia and avocado salad was placed in front of Gen and she eyed it up with curiosity. She’d never heard of chia but had considered it to be an interesting sounding lunch to try. She picked up her cutlery and placed her napkin over her lap as Edwin asked for her opinion on him.

“Juicy question.” Clearly amused by the question, Gen stabbed a piece of avocado with her fork and placed it in her mouth. She took her time, chewing thoughtfully. “You want honesty?”

“Well, you think that you can flatter me into supporting the Ministry. Or rather…you as the Minister. And you are… lonely but…” she looked down, trying to think of the words… “uneasy. Too preoccupied with how people see you to be yourself. I mean, we last met in a private room at Le Masque. And today? You suggest a muggle café that no one comes to other than the hitwizard who’s clearly here for your security. I’m surprised it’s a woman, you’ve quite the reputation preceeding you, Edwin.”

After a shrug and a smile, Gen took another bite of lettuce and the newly experienced chia seeds.

“Ah, uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” Edwin quoted, a melancholy tone to his voice. “We both play roles, we both are expected to keep up appearances.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders gently. Word had got round about their first meeting, despite it being in a private room at Le Masque. Eyes were everywhere, and people talked and supposed. At least with Genevieve and the timing of the bachelor poll, it had been easier for them to draw correct conclusions. That they had shared so much wine, well, he didn’t claim expenses for every meeting. Especially not there.

“Mm, yes, I am not often let out without shadow these days.” Edwin sounded almost apologetic, “Not my directive, but the well-meaning sorts on Level One. They’d prefer me safe and sound so I can sign papers again after lunch.” He picked at his salad, “Don’t be surprised it’s a woman,” he added, “I’ve been at the receiving end of her ... on operation about eighteen months ago. She’s a crack shot.” He paused, wondering which conclusion she’d go for on that information, omitting the word wand given the close proximity of Muggles.

“Genevieve, If I wasn’t Minister, then we’d meet wherever,” Edwin continued, “but any time I meet with the media, people think I’ve an agenda, or an announcement to make. They see that rather than me inviting good company to lunch.” Which was what one did if they were lonely.

Edwin had no doubt been perfectly serious at the suggestion that his staff wished for his safe return to Level 1, but Gen couldn’t help but smile.
“Am I on a watch list?” Immediately after saying it, Gen shrugged and sat back in her seat. “I bet I actually am. Might need updating now that everyone’s established I’m not a Death Eater.” She rose her eyebrows and glanced across at the witch whom, she presumed, she hadn’t been supposed to notice.

“So, what is this?” Gen asked after swallowing a piece of avocado and lettuce. “Do you have an agenda, Edwin? Or am I good company?” It would be better to find out sooner rather than later why he’d invited her here. Genny was a digger, she liked to know things. Being in the dark was rather a strange occurrence for the reporter. “Or are you simply trying to get a read on me?” She asked a lot of questions, perhaps a habit of the job.

“Am I on a watch list?” Gen asked, drawing her own conclusions without Edwin reacting. She gave a look to the hitwitch and he remembered she was a gossip columnist and Editor of a magazine that preferred scandal, so she would always read into things or be sarcastic to suggest there was more to something.

“… Do you have an agenda, Edwin? Or am I good company?”

He kept his attention on his lunch, not because it was interesting or at all intriguing, but because it was easier than meeting her eyes and accidentally answering the questions with his expression.

“… are you simply trying to get a read on me?”

“She’s trying to get a read on you, perhaps.” Edwin replied softly, and chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful, watching Gen’s reaction. “I don’t ordinarily discuss the woes of my love life with a relative stranger, albeit lubricated by good wine, Genevieve.” Edwin explained, an uneasy edge to his tone and a dip in his gaze. “You are good company, indeed, but equally being good company could be good business for you.” He blinked, “which do you believe it is?”

“I’m hardly a stranger when the world knows the intimate details of my private life.” Did Gen wish it were different? Of course. She wished she’d never had the need to bare all. She wished her husband’s face had never made the front page of the Daily Prophet all those years ago. But now she made a living off of people knowing everything. Why worry about their own lives when Queen G’s was in such a catastrophic disarray?

“I do pretty well out of being good company.” With a fork, Gen pushed a chunk of avocado around the plate, not having much of an appetite left. “Everyone wants Queen G at their party.” Less so Gen or Mrs Gamp. All different people, all different personalities. Same body.

“It depends what role I am in when I’m providing the company. Much like there’s Minister Glass, and there’s Edwin. Queen G is a façade, a character embellished for the public. Although I find the edges blurring more each day.” Gen wasn’t sure why she spoke so much; she’d shared too much for her liking back in Le Masque the last time they’d met.