Working overtime It was 5.25pm when a series of thumps and uncharacteristic language came from Barnabus’ office. Delphine hesitated, then stepped out from behind her desk, going cautiously to knock on the door.
“Is… is everything alright?” she asked tentatively.
“No,” he pinched the bridge of his nose in that way she’d noticed he did when he was extremely stressed but not wanting to snap at other people. “I just got this,” he gestured to a roll of parchment on his desk, the singed edges of which suggested it had come urgent delivery, via the Floo, rather than via an owl. “It’s about the contract for the merger,” whilst marriage was the most popular way to forge connections in the Pureblood world, business transactions were another. Two prominent families had been hoping to tie some knots for a while, but currently - with only sons in each - a business partnership was looking like the most likely way for them to do this. “The other side’s lawyer has asked to reschedule Friday’s meeting, and - unless I can meet him tomorrow - it’s going to have to be put off for two weeks.”
“Oh,” said Delphine. Whilst the reasonable course of action would be to reschedule, especially as it was the other party’s fault, she knew that would not go over well with the clients.
“I almost think he’s doing it on purpose… Either I put off the meeting, which looks bad, or I arrive under-prepared… I wouldn’t be surprised if he was hoping I’d gone home by now, and wouldn’t even see this until the morning.”
Delphine decided not to register an opinion on such a level of skullduggery by the opposing lawyer. It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would cancel or aim to move a meeting out of anything except absolute necessity, but she was rapidly learning that the business world was often a lot more cut-throat than she was. Although, given the lengths her father had gone to in order to preserve their reputation, she was incredibly receptive to the degree of cynicism required to imagine what others might do to enhance theirs, or the hand they were playing with. It was a trait that was probably going to stand her in good stead for a lifetime in society, as well as working with lawyers.
“I’ll just have to stay… I was on track to finish it all by Friday. Hopefully just one late night will do it…” Barnabus sighed.
“Perhaps I can help,” Delphine offered, “You'll need all sorts of files pulling.”
“No. It's practically time for you to go home - I couldn't possibly keep you.”
“I'd rather be here with you,” she insisted, realising only after she had said it how inappropriate it sounded. Luckily he was too stressed to seem to notice. “I mean, I'm sure I can be of help, and would very much like to be. Araceli won’t miss me, not for just one evening”
“If you don’t mind?” he accepted, far too quickly. He should let her go home, he knew he should. She would be of great help, of course. But he wasn’t sure that was his main motivation in asking her to stay. The thought of an endless evening alone had been depressing, but now, reframed as an extra few hours with the person whose company he most enjoyed, it seemed a little brighter. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
*
The contract, which had been half finished at the start of the evening, was in a much healthier state two hours later. There was still a fair amount to do though, and Delphine had noticed both of their stomachs growling.
“Why don't I get us some dinner?” she offered. “How about the Japanese place?”
“I didn't think you liked the Japanese place.”
“I didn't enjoy making a spectacle of myself. I liked the food very much.”
“That would be wonderful,” Barnabus nodded.
She made her way downstairs, returning a short time later with a large bag, from which a wonderful savory smell drifted. Barnabus stood up from his desk and stretched.
“How about a picnic?” he suggested, a little sardonically. With a wave of his wand he conjured a blanket and he and Delphine began to lay out the food she'd brought up, with her conjuring delicate willow-patterned plates as they went.
“Have you been practising?” he asked, as she deftly began eating with the chopsticks provided.
“Yes,” she admitted, not adding that she had wanted to make him proud of her. His tone suggested he was, and she felt a warm glow of happiness - it was a feeling she had come to associate with him. He kept shining this light on her, making her feel special. Even for something as simple as learning a skill he already possessed…
She tried for a chicken gyoza. It was heavy and an awkward shape, slipping from between her chopsticks in spite of her newly acquired skills. Feeling flustered did not help with her second attempt.
“Here, let me,” he smiled, picking it up, leaning in to pop it into her mouth. He was close to Delphine on a daily basis, laying files on her desk, or placing her coat around her shoulders as they went for lunch, but not like this. Their interactions were always friendly but formal. Now, they were sitting together on a picnic rug, bodies inclined towards one another. There was a strand of hair falling down her cheek. He reached out and brushed it back. And then, his hand was in her hair... He saw their trajectories… He could close that gap… The hand that gently held her would pull her towards him... He forced himself to straighten up.
“Maybe I should call my sister. Perhaps she can help us.” And, he thought, suddenly conscious of the fact that he had placed himself alone at night with a young woman he found deeply attractive, and about whose reputation he consequently cared a great deal, act as chaperone.
Delphine tried not to sigh. When he had suggested a picnic she had found the thought romantic and just now she had been convinced that he was about to kiss her. And she had seen herself, melting into his arms. But no... sitting side by side with her on a picnic rug had prompted him to think of his sister.