Chapter Text
London
March, 2007
“It’s not that simple!” Daphne argued.
“Really?” Ron cocked a single eyebrow, taking a bite of his chicken without breaking eye contact.
Daphne shook her head, a twitch in her upper lip betraying her amusement.
“Ha - see, you agree.” Ron made a motion of wiping his hands before sitting back.
It was a familiar argument between them: Ron believed the art of lawmaking should be simple, while Daphne believed that viewpoint was... naive.
“I just think you’re quite cute,” she said, shrugging innocently and returning to her pasta. The restaurant, a cozy Italian place that had recently opened up near Weasleys, was crowded, and the pair were tucked away in a corner, effectively hidden from view.
Daphne was irrationally nervous. She tried to delude herself into believing her nerves were solely related to fear of the media, or something else that was objectively logical. But the fact of the matter was, she had limited experience in dating, having spent the majority of her adult life in a pretend relationship with the legendary Harry Potter.
It was also quite strange to go out with someone who the media had once accused her of having an affair with. While the truth of their relationship, at the time, was far more innocent, it put additional scrutiny on them; hence, why she had waited so long to agree to the date.
“I just think there has to be an easier way to achieve consensus. It shouldn’t take committees and endless posturing to pass a law,” he pointed out. “It feels like our entire legislative body is built to ensure the continuation of corporate interests.”
“But it’s not that simple.” She shook her head, wiping at her mouth and putting her napkin gently back on her lap. “If we remove the mechanisms for ‘corporate interests’ as you call them, then how will the other interests be heard? Think about what your brother Charlie does. Our legislative system allows him , as an activist for creature rights, to have a voice. It may not be perfect, and perhaps it is still the case that the loudest among us gets the first bite of the apple, but I don’t believe it’s as nefarious as you make it out to be.”
Daphne found Ron’s opinion prevalent amongst the younger Progressives: while they all fundamentally agreed on the same platform, many of them, like Ron, felt that the Progressive faction was too comfortable compromising. While Daphne could agree with this to an extent, she didn't see a more practical solution.
“What would you do instead?” she asked curiously.
Ron blinked, as though surprised she had bothered to ask. “Why not a true democracy? Where issues are raised and voted on directly by the people? Then there would be no question of what the people truly want.”
“Do you think that’s viable?” Daphne argued. “There are so many laws to legislate. Beyond the controversial questions of magical liberties, there are laws governing taxes, appropriations, internal trade, and other minutiae. It wouldn’t make sense.”
“But what if the election process allowed for a more direct way to vote on issues rather than people? Make it less political and more policy driven,” Ron said.
It was an interesting idea. “Perhaps in a perfect world, that’s how our version of democracy would work, where individuals would represent a very specific set of ideas, and the people would understand clearly what they were voting for.”
“But?”
“But—” Daphne frowned “—the fundamental issue is, people aren’t perfect. People, both the politicians in office and those they represent, are inherently flawed. The politicians misrepresent themselves in elections, and once they take office, end up voting against the issues they had previously championed; and the electorate often vote based on emotion, rather than on the issues at hand.”
“So there’s no point in trying?” Ron questioned.
“Of course there is,” she responded. “As people become more educated and aware, they’re better able to understand the issues and see past the political bluster.”
“So is that why your number one policy agenda is education?” he asked with a slight smile.
Daphne nodded. “One of many reasons. As much fun as it would be to make the expansion of liberties or any other social issue a priority, with the expected baby boom, we need to be focused on education most of all.”
“Politics is quite boring when you get down to it.” Ron smirked.
“Oh, it has its moments,” Daphne waxed. She enjoyed when politics was boring, and she sometimes missed being Harry’s chief advisor, when she had been able to focus on drafting and reviewing legislation. Now, she was thrust in the limelight, constantly lobbying and bartering for votes. “But enough about me. How’s your football league coming along?”
“Booming.” His smile widened and he explained, “Since the birth rate matter has finally been resolved, people seem to be a lot more willing to try new things. I’ve started the process of formalizing the league. I’m not sure if we’ll have a professional one, or just an amateur league, but it's a start.”
“That’s incredible.” Daphne smiled. “Will it just be in London?”
He nodded. “For now. At least until the restrictions on large gatherings are lifted.” He gave her a pointed look at the end.
She frowned. “You think the restrictions are unreasonably harsh?” she asked curtly.
“Yes,” he paused, looking slightly taken aback at her terse response. “At the very least, the restrictions should be reduced. There hasn’t been a successful terrorist attack on a large gathering in over five years!”
“Well, of course, because we’ve had adequate regulation and restrictions.”
“So, we’ll just never reduce them? We’ll just forever relegate the WEA, outside of major cities, to a life without football?” he finished dramatically.
“Har har,” Daphne quipped. It was a difficult situation; no legislator wanted to enact a law that would potentially result in loss of life. But Ron’s opinion mirrored that of an increasing number of constituents, arguing that their safety was no longer due to the restrictions, but rather to the apprehension of the most dangerous terrorists.
Ron shifted. “You know what they’re saying, don’t you? People are suggesting that Parliament doesn’t want to let people gather because they’re afraid of losing their power.”
“I’ve heard that.” Daphne frowned. “But deregulating public gatherings isn’t so simple. I guess I always imagined that we would be able to add defensive shields to all the cities, or perhaps one across the entire WEA.”
“But you know a lot of cities would never support that,” Ron pointed out.
That was true, Daphne knew. It was something she had learned when she started campaigning; a lot of people found the overwhelming Corps presence to be a fundamental infringement on their freedom. The idea of a Corps-operated defensive grid made people fearful. “That’s a good point,” she agreed finally.
Changing the subject, she asked, “So will you be focusing on your sports full time? Give up bartending?”
“Eh, we’ll see. For now, I can’t imagine the football league will be all that profitable, but maybe in time.” He grabbed their dinner bill from the table.
“Do you want to split it?” She pulled a WEA20 note from her bag.
He frowned, and she felt self-conscious, thinking about all the magazines that talked about these moments—‘ what does it mean if he does or doesn’t pay?’ Once more, she felt out of her element. She could discuss policy all day, but when it came to something as simple as paying the bill, she was insecure. Should she have just let him pay for it, or should she have offered? After all, with her father in prison, she was the manager of the Greengrass trust.
“Alright,” he said with a friendly smile.
“This was lovely,” she told him, wincing slightly as the words came out more stiff than she intended. “Though perhaps next time, we can talk about something other than politics.”
“It seems our conversations always tend to lead there,” Ron pointed out. “So, that means you would like for there to be a next time?”
“I would,” she told him, unable to stop the small smile stealing across her lips.
They walked outside and into the rather quiet street, a striking contrast to the bustle of the restaurant they came from. While restaurants and shops had begun a resurgence in the last few months, downtown London still remained a shadow of its former glory. It was a cool spring day, and the overcast sky and cold wind bit at Daphne’s cheeks.
Ron looked somewhat conflicted, and she wondered if perhaps he was as nervous as she was. He always came across so relaxed and easy going, but was it possible he could be insecure in matters of dating? “Would you want to come by my flat for a cup of tea?” he asked.
“I—” she started, but was interrupted by the loud vibration of her phone. She almost declined the call, but then saw her campaign manager on the caller ID. “I’m so sorry Ron. I have to get this.”
“Kathryn?” Daphne said quietly into the phone, turning around.
“ Greengrass - I’m on my way to your place.”
“Why?”
“The Freedom faction pulled together enough signatures. They have a nominee.”
Daphne blinked, turning around and looking at Ron regretfully. “I'll be right there.” She hung up, a sad smile on her face. “I really would love to, but—”
“Duty calls?” he guessed.
She blinked her eyes in regret. “It’s the election. That was Kathryn - my campaign manager. A bit of news.”
“I understand.” He said it so kindly, it almost made her feel worse. Throughout the entirety of their friendship and courtship, he had been understanding—when their pictures were sprawled over the newspaper, when she refused to see him, when she made him wait months to go out on a date... It confused her in a sense—why was he willing to wait on her?
“You shouldn’t have to.” She frowned. “I feel awful.”
He gave her a soft smirk, stepping closer and rubbing his thumb gently across her cheek. “I think you’re worth it.” He leaned in slowly to kiss her, his hand cradling her face. Her heart raced and her neck flushed, in spite of the biting cold. They had kissed once before, the innocent kiss on her living room sofa, before their lives had been upended. But this was different.
His soft lips crashed into hers, and she responded immediately. This wasn’t the promise of some possible future, this was him saying he wanted her. And it felt good to be wanted. She clutched his jacket, opening her mouth, just slightly, in invitation. In the back of her mind, she questioned if she really needed to meet with Kathryn. Didn’t it make more sense to just go to Ron’s for ‘tea’?
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. It felt like they fit; in spite of their often conflicting politics and startlingly different upbringings, he made her feel and think in ways she had never imagined. She let out a small groan as Ron paused the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers.
He smiled, closing his eyes. “I, uh—” she wanted to take a picture of him right then and there; Ron Weasley frazzled was surely a sight to behold “—you have to go,” he reminded her.
She held onto his neck, their foreheads still touching and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“The life of a politician,” he stated in a knowing tone.
“Next time,” she promised, reluctantly stepping away and hailing a cab.
Kathryn Angles, Daphne’s ever present campaign manager, was sitting comfortably on Daphne’s living room sofa, balancing a glass of bordeaux in her left hand and a newspaper in her right. “Daphne,” Kathryn greeted as Daphne entered. The woman was older, likely in her fifties, and had a penchant for comparing WEA politics to what came before .
She was a non-magical, and one of the people who acted as though the Event was a mere blip with limited impact on her life. She had simply re-learned the political game and adapted. Kathryn was who she was and made no apologies. Her clearly dyed brown hair lay impeccably against her back. She wore a burgundy pant suit, her makeup exquisite because she held the attitude that you always had to be ready for anything.
It exhausted Daphne just to think about it. “Kathryn. It’s lovely to see you.”
“Cut the crap, Greengrass. You don’t have to pander to me.” Kathryn had hard brown eyes, her stare reminding Daphne of a particularly blunt policy professor she’d once had.
She had hired Kathryn a month earlier at James Potter’s insistence. “You’ll hate her, but she’ll get you elected,” was the ringing endorsement. So far, he was half right. Daphne couldn’t stand the woman. “Alright then.” Daphne let her smile drop and stared back at Kathryn.
She offered an almost imperceptible smile and began, “The Freedom faction will be nominating Cedric Diggory to run against you.”
“What?” Daphne spat, completely taken aback. “Amos Diggory’s son? When did he become a part of the Freedom faction?”
The Freedom faction was one of the more unfortunate things, in Daphne’s opinion, to come about in the wake of the resolution of the birth rate crises. As many predicted, the solving of one matter led to the rising importance of many more. The Freedom faction consisted of a small subset of magicals, most of whom were middle-aged or older, who believed that the WEA was infringing upon their freedom. They wanted to end the prohibitions on certain types of magic and reduce magic monitoring, and they were staunchly against the WEA opening its borders.
Amos Diggory had been Severus Snape’s predecessor at Justice, and as far as Daphne was aware, the man was competent and moderate. To hear his son , who Daphne believed was around her own age, had chosen to support and furthermore represent the Freedom faction was—disconcerting.
“How did they get enough signatures to get him on the ballot?” Daphne asked. As far as she was aware, the Freedom faction represented a loud, but small, contingent of magicals.
Kathryn smirked. “It appears they’ve been gaining the support of former Isolationists and Separatists.”
Daphne blinked. Following the debacle with the attempt on Harry’s life, the two factions implicated were in a state of chaos. It shouldn’t have surprised her that they would change their strategy to stay in power, but it did.
“But Cedric Diggory can’t be much older than me,” Daphne thought out loud. Most of the younger generation, as far as she was aware, tended to hold more progressive views and while some, like Ron, may seek the deregulation of certain aspects of magic, for the most part, they valued the continued cooperation with the non-magicals more.
Kathryn cocked her head to the side, rewarding Daphne with a patronizing frown. “Daphne,” the older woman unceremoniously lit a cigarette, using Daphne’s mug as an ashtray. “You need to look at the polling data I sent you. The 18-36 demographic is slipping.”
Daphne struggled not to cough as a whiff of smoke hit her in the face. “But why?”
“Why not? Your faction is run by an uncharismatic old man. The Freedom faction has led them to believe they’re being denied something for nefarious reasons. And, last but not least, your precious Harry Potter has been heard bad mouthing the faction,” Kathryn regurgitated, placing her newspaper in front of Daphne.
Daphne looked at the headline, unsurprised. ‘Harry Potter expresses concerns over lack of progress in the development of a foreign office.’ She was well aware of this, and was confident that the quote and other information attributable to Harry was taken out of context. “This is simply poor journalism.” Daphne pushed the newspaper back across the coffee table.
“Then why hasn’t Potter denied it?” Kathryn raised a single eyebrow, pushed her cigarette butt into the bottom of the mug, and continued, “The point is, Harry was the symbol for the Progressive faction. Now, the Freedom faction has their own.”
Kathryn handed another paper to Daphne. The young witch pulled out her reading glasses and frowned. She’d heard of Cedric Diggory but was more familiar with his father. However, it was well known that Cedric had been a Corps Officer and had some sort of accident.
Daphne scanned the paper in her hands; this was an old article about Cedric Diggory. She had to admit, he was handsome and had quite a nice smile. The article was written after his honorable discharge from the Corps, and described his heroic efforts to stop a particularly vile fundamentalist attack in Scandinavia. “He’s a war hero?” Daphne pulled off her glasses, returning her attention to her Campaign Manager.
Kathryn nodded. “Exactly. He’s young, good looking, and as I understand it, charismatic. He’s their very own Harry Potter.” What still rankled Daphne was why someone like Diggory would want to represent the Freedom faction. Beyond simply his age, there was the matter of his service record; the Freedom faction was rather anti-Corps, seeking the division of Corps resources for the sake of ‘preserving freedom and democracy.’ So why would a war hero want that?
“So what do we do?” Daphne asked.
Kathryn smiled. “Once the legislative session is over, we need to start actively campaigning. We’re not waiting until winter; we’ll spend the entire summer on the road.”
Daphne tried to keep her expression neutral. “You really think that will help?”
“We have twelve months until the election. With Diggory in the race, it will likely come down to the two of you. Your problem is you come across as entitled and uptight. We need to get you out in front of the people: town halls, speaking engagements, and so on... You do well one on one,” Kathryn rambled. Daphne could never decide if Kathryn’s ability to speak the unrepentant truth was admirable or cruel.
It was nonetheless a familiar refrain; Daphne was cold . People saw her as a politician. She didn’t have the charisma of Harry Potter. The problem was, the few times she attempted ‘passion’ or ‘emotion,’ she was told to stop, as it unfortunately reminded people she was a woman, and surely that wouldn’t do. So she was stuck trying to walk the fine line between aloof and emotional. Kathryn’s solution was to get her in front of people—because for some reason that line became less of a problem when the electorate was reminded that Daphne was a person.
Daphne nodded. She didn’t really have a choice, after all. This was one of Kathryn’s ‘rules;’ when she told Daphne to do something for the campaign, she did it. This only applied to the campaign; any policy-related matters or votes were strictly outside of Kathryn’s purview. Though the older woman had been known to throw in her two cents from time to time.
“Is there anything else?” Daphne asked. She felt suddenly exhausted, the adrenaline from her date long dissipated and the weight of her career bearing down on her. She allowed herself a moment to shut her eyes, lean back, and consider a life where she could go on a date without being interrupted. Where she could go to Ron Weasley’s flat for a “cup of tea” which surely meant more...
And now, she realized with a pang in her chest, she would be away for three months. Perhaps she was being presumptuous, but she had hoped she could spend some time in relative normality, exploring whatever was happening with Ron Weasley. But it seemed the world had other plans for her.
“Not now. I’ll be in touch.” Kathryn offered a cold nod and left Daphne alone.