WHO: Betty Braithwaite & Francine Goldstein WHAT: A business proposal WHEN: 1st January 2018 WHERE: A park somewhere WARNINGS: None!
Betty was exhausted with seeing people from families affected by this war, but there still didn’t seem to be anyone untouched by it. Donating money to them wasn’t exactly cutting it as far as Betty’s weighty guilty conscience was concerned, but that feeling of helplessness and not knowing what else she could do just seemed to linger. A few days spent at home hadn’t helped, fighting with her mother and eventually flouncing off back to her own apartment to drink away the confusion alone.
She’d taken the liberty of grabbing herself a coffee (complete with the usual disdainful glance at the cashier when asked for her ID card) on the way to the park and was drinking it slowly while she sat on the cold park bench waiting for Francine.
Having let Betty wait for the amount of time she felt necessary to get across her disapproval at her chosen profession, but not long enough that it would seem too rude, Francine made her way to the bench. She was wary of Betty, still, unsure of what her deal was, so she kept her face carefully devoid of expression — it wasn't good to show her hand too early — and sat down next to her. "Sorry I'm late," she said, although she wasn't. "I was just so busy and lost track of time," she added, even though she hadn't.
Betty’s smile was warm, with no reason to suspect anything but the truth from Francine. She hadn’t thought to get a coffee for Francine, and instead of apologising she just held her own one as she started to speak. “It’s no problem,” Betty told her. “We all get busy.” A beat. She would’ve sipped the coffee if it hadn’t finally struck her of the selfishness of not even offering Francine one. “How are you?”
Francine only liked coffee when she was on a late-night stakeout and even then, she had never liked the taste. She was glad to not have to pretend she liked it, because she would've had to, since adults all drank coffee and she wanted to be taken seriously. "It hasn't been the best start to a year," she said, remembering her fight with Rolf and scowling.
Betty paused. “I’m sorry to hear that,” her sympathy was only offered briskly, glancing at Francine before she continued to speak. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your mother.”
She definitely hadn't expected that, and evidence of her surprise was clear in the way Francine's eyebrows had risen and her mouth had quirked in confusion. "You have?" Then, suspiciously, "Why?"
“I mean, not just her.” Betty chewed over her words silently for a moment. “All the families that have been hurt by this.” Jasper, Flick and Luca especially. Gwen’s little sister. Again, she was focusing on the ones that she knew but on this occasion she had considered more. “There’s so many people with stories and they’re not all able to tell them or try get them out to an audience.”
Slowly, Francine furrowed her eyebrows and nodded, as if she understood her point and only understanding half of it. "That's not their fault," she said, seizing upon the thing that incensed her most. "You know some people won't publish their stories and unfortunately, not all of us are blessed with the blogging gene."
Betty smiled softly. “No, they’re not all bloggers. And I know it’s not their fault,” she was hasty to explain herself. “I want to tell the stories, if I can. But I’m also not blessed with the blogging gene-” another smile, more hesitant, “- Would you help me? Maybe not as a blog, maybe we could it printed somehow,” certainly not in the Daily Prophet, but possibly somewhere. “I’d love it if you could.”
Her immediate answer had been a yes, but just before she relayed it, she stopped herself. If she'd learned anything the last year, it was to never trust easily. Betty Braithwaite still wrote for the Prophet, where Narcissa Malfoy was, and there hadn't been a single piece since Everything (as she had taken to call it) that Francine had liked. She couldn't just jump into creative bed with her journalistic enemy. But, admittedly, she loved the idea and it was basically like her blog, but on a wider scale, and if they could get more than the viewers she had acquired over the months she'd devoted to her blog, then it would just be building off her own success. Plus, she added to herself, it was very useful and whatever Rolf thought, she was very good at useful plans.
It was hard not to betray these thoughts, but she managed somehow. "Don't you think you could, I don't know, get in trouble with the Prophet?" Francine even managed to contain a scoff with her words.
“If we kept it quiet until it was done that’d help,” Betty had been mulling over that very fact since the idea’s quiet germination. “Not many of us are very happy there, you know? But we all needed to work.” A pause. “How about you come work on it with me there? I could get you work as a researcher, and Madam-- Narcissa might not even care to look into what you’re doing.” Betty’s suggestion was tentative but she looked to Francine for agreement.
Her eyes went wide. "I can't work there," she said, her voice a hushed whisper all of a sudden as if Narcissa Malfoy would jump out from behind the nearby tree and declare that she had been listening all along and that her sister would come and kill her for even thinking about it. She was also scandalized at the thought. "It's the enemy."
“We could work something else out then?” Betty tried, unwilling to let go of the thought. “It’s what you’ve been doing already and it feels wrong to try do it without you.”
"I do like the idea," Francine confessed. "The telling the stories idea, not stepping foot inside the Prophet. But I don't want to get anyone in trouble." Not, at least, without a proper escape plan. She'd learned that from her study of heists.
“Well, how about we table that aspect and just start on research?” Betty proposed. “I wouldn’t want to put you at risk. I won’t be telling Narcissa, that’s for sure.” Or letting in anyone who might relay it back to her. “I know you’re good at connections, aren’t you?”
Francine brightened at the compliment. She could be good at connections. She was a very good wheedler, and very persistent, and had perfected a winsome smile. "Of course I am. I know a lot of people."
“So we have a deal?” Betty’s pressing was gentle.
She didn't have to know that she would be watching her for any signs of betrayal or that she would also take this as an opportunity to study Betty and her work — all she needed to know, as far as Francine was concerned, and this wasn't a lie, was that she would definitely help. Sticking her hand out, Francine nodded and said, "It's a deal!"
Completely unaware that Francine still had lingering thoughts about her potential betrayal, Betty took the hand that was offered and shook it firmly. “I have a good feeling about this.”