InsaneJournal

This was, it seemed, a week for clandestine meetings, or if nothing else a Hogsmeade weekend for them; and seeing as it was her last Hogsmeade weekend, it was perhaps a bit tricky for Pansy to arrange them. Her housemates, after all, expected to spend time together, and there was shopping with Gwen on top of her secretive tea with the Malfoys. A meeting with Mr. Rowle was nearly one complication too many, but Pansy had agreed, and she wasn’t one to go back on her word where influential adults were concerned.

Besides, if any of her friends did happen to spot her with the man- perhaps a likely prospect, given the rendez-vous spot- she could play it off much more easily than she could have if they’d seen her with Lucius and Narcissa. Her father was a Ministry man, like Rowle; it could easily have been something to do with her post-Hogwarts career. He’d mentioned her future, after all.

Though she rather doubted that a job was what he’d meant.

She arrived at the Broomsticks a good ten minutes early, both because promptness was always an asset and because every minute she spent walking through Hogsmeade was a minute when another student might spot her and fancy a chat. Simpler to hurry to the Inn and find a table in a relatively secluded corner from which she could watch the door.

Fletcher was, of course, right on time. He walked into the Three Broomsticks and removed his hat as he glanced around until his gaze settled on Miss Parkinson. With a polite smile on his face, he approached her with a light bow. "Miss Parkinson," he greeted. He offered her his hand. "Fletcher Rowle. It's a delight to meet you."

Pansy couldn’t decide if that bow was the height of manners or just a touch overwrought; either way, she stood and shook the man’s hand, smiling.”The pleasure is mine, sir,” she assured. “Please, sit. I hope this is an acceptable table. There’s not much quiet to be had at the Broomsticks on Hogsmeade weekend.”

"This is fine," he said as he took a seat and motioned for Rosmerta to come take their order. He asked for a glass of white wine, chilled, and looked to Pansy for her own request before he settled back casually in his seat.

"Lucius and Narcissa speak very highly of you," he began.

Pansy ordered a water; she'd had quite enough tea today, and keeping her wits about her seemed prudent.

"Mr. And Mrs. Malfoy have been very kind to me," she demured, though she held Fletcher's gaze rather than looking away in faux - embarrassment. "It's good to know that they think we'll of me. Thank you, sir."

"Do you have your plans set for after Hogwarts?" he asked her a moment later with a nod.

"I have several...opportunities," Pansy demured; the fact that she would be moving into Malfoy Manor was hardly common knowledge, after all. No need to mention it publicly. "I have been speaking to Mrs. Dodge about an internship with the Wizengamot, among others."

It was true, after all, and suitably ambitious. She wasn't sure, yet, what Rowle was really asking. Better to tread lightly until she was.

"A career with the Ministry is very respectable," he said. "Is there a particular thing about the Wizengamot that appeals to you?" Fletcher always took his time in encounters like this, had since the early days, when the Dark Lord asked him to vet potential candidates.

A dark eyebrow arched, but the waitress was back with their drinks before Pansy could reply. She thanked the woman with a gracious smile, accepted her glass and took a long sip to give the server time to move on before she spoke.

“I suppose it’s the chance to help define how our world- or at least our nation- is run,” she said finally, smiling just a little. “Wizarding Britain is troubled, sir, isn’t it? It has been for so long now. So many crimes, so little justice. The Wizengamot has the power to change that, if only it would be...a little more aggresive in its stance. I would like to be a part of that, someday, if I prove myself worthy of the privilege.”

There was nothing quite definite in what she’d said, nothing that could be held against her. She could have been speaking from any viewpoint, in support of any side. That was the point. Pansy had spent her whole life being careful, being vague in public and vehement in private. If Narcissa and Lucius were vouching for her, Mr. Rowle could have no doubt which side she was on; she was counting on that.

"And you have the drive and the inclination to work up to a position where your influence is wanted?" Rowle asked. He swirled his wine for a moment then took a brief slip. He was able to read between her lines well enough, not to mention her familiarity with the Malfoys, the he wasn't concerned about that. He simply wanted to know if she was willing to do the necessary work.

"Absolutely, sir," Pansy said, sitting up straighter as she spoke. "I'll do whatever it takes, believe me."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said with half a smile. "The world can use more young people such as yourself."

Pansy smiled, in clinic her head in acceptance of the compliment. "I can only hope to be a good influence on my peers," she said with a nod.

Fletcher continued to sip his wine. "Tell me, Miss Parkinson, are there any of your peers with whom you are most impressed? And likewise not at all impressed? My children are grown, so I don't have an ear or eye in Hogwarts any longer."

"The majority of my housemates are impressive in their own ways," Pansy said before pausing thoughtfully. "Theodore Nott is very much his father's son, I understand, though rash at times, and perhaps a bit less...mature than one might wish. Perhaps to be expected. Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe are loyal and very agreeable. And Gwendolyn Montgomery is my own best friend, which I hope recommends her, sir."

"Yes, I'm close with Mr. Nott's father," Fletcher said, rubbing his jaw gently. He finished off his wine. He knew the Goyles and Crabbes as well. But not Miss Montgomery. He nodded regardless. "And the young Mr. Malfoy?"