Awakening | Roger

Minister.

It was one of a handful of titles James wore now, the first he felt he had truly earned.

Throughout his life, titles, positions, roles, connections - they had all been handed to James simply by prestige of his name and blood. A calculated flash of brown eyes, a sly grin that held no warmth, or a simple reminder of who they were talking to, and people easily bent the knee. They delivered to him on a silver platter what he demanded, in exchange for the illusion of his loyalty or alliance.

It was a dance James had come to memorize, choreographed by his father and all the men that had come before him. Benji would learn it well, as would Jude someday, if needed. Men brought up behind gilded stone walls, never wanting for anything if they only said the word.

It made the success of the election all the more gratifying. He had sketched out his vision, laid his path, engineered each domino's fall, and in the end left it all in the hands of the British people to decide.

They had chosen him. What some would denigrate as a pretty boy dressed in his father's money, sneering their faux deference when he'd never asked for it, had been chosen to lead the wizarding world into the next era. Lead he certainly would, but he'd never be successful without the right people at his side.

Roger Burke was an American, and had no real place in British politics, aside if his own government were to place him as an ambassador of sorts. With that being said, he was one of the few men James had come to trust over the last few years - his brother-in-law being another - and with the rapid disintegration of a close branch of their family, he needed all the friends he could get.

An invitation, personally written by Amelia, had invited the Burkes to come and join the festivities without obligation. Despite the mishaps over the past few summers, relations remained friendly and workable, as their children aged and moved ever closer to finally sealing what he and Roger had worked towards.

A blending of power. America and England. The Burkes and the Laurences. Moving forward into a future that could only be seen as golden.

"Fancy meeting you here," James said jovially, a wide grin on his face as he stepped down from the dais following his speech. Hand outstretched, he shook Roger's, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder as they greeted one another. "Come. Let the women gush over each other. I've got a quieter table back here, away from the crowds."

Ah, but the Brits were an ostentatious sort, weren't they?

Narrow flute of champagne in hand, Roger surveyed the ground floor of the ministry. He expected nothing less from a people who still believed in following a king. Oppulence was the least they could do for the new head of their wizarding world, and was there ever a more fitting and useful man for the task? The man didn't harbour any particular interest in politics or aspirations to rise so high himself, but he would hardly pretend to be the fool or thrust the title onto Laurence by insisting the new position meant nothing and held no personal value.

They were beyond that. Both men had recognised each other for exactly what they were the moment their wayward charges had brought them together. A song and dance, indeed, but one that didn't involve practised smiles and carefully spoken words. Dire circumstances could do that. Both had needed each other, not in any sense that put one above the other, but in a way that made it easier to recognise that neither was the enemy.

It was his least perilous relationship in his current arsenal, and the irony wasn't lost on him that it was all the way across the pond rather than among the men with whom he conducted business daily.

Vipers, he knew. The man was a viper himself. It made him appreciative of the few relationships that did not require nearly so much treachery and vigilance to remain afloat.

Roger swivelled the pale gold, bubbling liquid as he listened to what could someday be considered the speech of the century. His eyes followed the man of the hour as he descended the dais, his own hand readily reaching out to take his, offering a firm shake. They'd only arrived late that afternoon and hadn't wanted to intrude on any final preparations the Laurences may have needed to make by making them responsible for welcoming guests. The family had gone straight to Mayfair. Roger knew there would be plenty of time to catch up at the gala, not expecting James to invite him only to ignore him for the night after. Six days at sea. No, he didn't anticipate such treatment from the man he was joining families with.

"Fancy meeting you here. Come. Let the women gush over each other. I've got a quieter table back here, away from the crowds."

Gladly.

Roger loved his wife, genuinely, in his own way. But spending as much time rocking back and forth across the Atlantic, listening to all the plans she had for England and all the lunches she would have when they returned had worn him down. Let her be Amelia's problem for a few hours. The pair of them would certainly prefer it.

He spared them a final parting glance, understanding that none would remain at that table. It was its own small blessing. Francine, Lucy and Ruth had no business sharing any space for too long.

"Minister," Roger said lightly, allowing himself to be led away.

"At the risk of aggravating my sister, had you told me you had such ambitions, I might have thrown in a nephew." The Laurences, if he was correct, had a lot of girls. Not a problem with the right covenants and pull within your circle but a potential death sentence in others. The comment, however, wasn't meant to be taken gravely.

But his nephews could certainly be put on offer. Young as they still were.

"Will I need appointments to see you from now on? Set months in advance?"

"Minister," he echoed as the men settled themselves at the table, a box of the best Cuban cigars quickly placed between them by one of the servers before he made himself scarce again. "Always been a distant ambition, I suppose, but not one I thought to come to fruition until the last year or so." He reached for a cigar, the end already cut, and toasted the edge with the tip of his wand.

"But a nephew's always welcome. Merlin knows I have plenty of girls to eventually marry off." He grinned widely as he leaned back in his seat, glad to have the company of a man he trusted. There were so few in his orbit nowadays, even amongst those he called 'allies'. It was the nature of politics and power, he supposed. A viper's nest, only willing to help so far until the mood struck.

"Will I need appointments to see you from now on? Set months in advance?"

A small chuckle rose up his throat as he brought the cigar to his lips, puffing a bit before blowing the smoke up and over his head. "Others perhaps. Family goes to the front of the line." A simple indication that he considered Roger as such now. With their children getting older and closer to the timeframe they'd set for a wedding, it wouldn't be long until legally it was a reality.

It wasn't to say there hadn't been bumps in the road or misunderstandings that needed to be smoothed over. But the two men had come to know one another and their intentions. What was good for one was inevitably good for the other. "I mean to loosen tariffs and taxes on international magical trade coming from the U.S.," he said lightly, indicating that Roger should help himself to a cigar as well. "Should make things a little easier for you."

He nodded lightly. “And if you give me the heads up, I can make certain the right people understand which shipments require less scrutiny.” Leaning forward on the table, he asked, "How are things Roger? With business and the family?" He meant to offer his help in any way that might be needed, now that he had the power to do so. There were advantages to his position they normally could never have dreamed of, and if his friends - not necessarily his allies - needed those advantages, he was happy to give them.

It could only benefit him as well in the end.

The last year.

Roger hadn't kept up with the international political scene, not in any way that might make him more versed in whatever shift had made the office possible for the man he was joining families with. But he knew enough. He knew of the scandal that had come from the cult, the trials, and how that raging lunatic had nearly decimated his family line and forced him into scrambling for a new heir. The British Wizarding System of Justice would've been the least of Thatcher's worries had he actually managed to murder his daughter. The cult could embrace muggles all they'd like. They could spread their muggle-centred propaganda through the streets for the unsuspecting.

They could not force him to consider the future of his family or the rearing of another toddler. His days of tolerating small children were behind him. All his children were old enough to know better, even if Ruth still sometimes acted to the contrary.

He reached for the cigar, lighting it with the tip of his wand.

"It suits you," he commented lightly, taking a long drag and releasing the billows of smoke. "Someone with sense in office can only benefit our British cousins."

"But a nephew's always welcome. Merlin knows I have plenty of girls to eventually marry off."

"Allistair's 14 and Randolph is 10." Both growing like weeds. Roger remembered fondly the days Isabel would bring them by the estate to play with his son. Allistair was already being taught the ins and outs of his father's business and showed much promise. While the boy wouldn't affect his legacy, the man liked to know that his sister's family wouldn't suffer. "Should either of those be of interest to you, well, we're certainly not strangers. In a few years, I expect Lucy will begin producing sons as well."

Another drag. Smoke coiled its way out his nostrils in thin plumes.

They were family, or would be soon enough. He was pleased to know it meant something.

"Careful, Laurence, you'll spoil me with these international policies. I won't know what to do with myself if you ever decide to leave office," he quipped, traces of a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. In truth, that would make their international routes more lucrative. He didn't know a soul who would frown at bringing in more money. If the Burke's were meant to last, they had to remain relevant in the trading market, and their prospects had just improved.

"How are things Roger? With business and the family?"

"Well, quite well, actually. The market for sugar still hasn't recovered following that war. Our fields down in Florida are doing overperforming, bringing in twice or three times as much as they did before that mess." Dreadful. Truly. Lucrative. "The banking sector back up north is picking up again. We have a few investments looking to mature within the next few years."

Roger lowered his cigar, sipping from his flute instead.

"And you? I can see things are going quite well on this side of the pond, but how's the family?"

"Someone with sense in office can only benefit our British cousins."

James nodded, a smile of appreciation at the man's words gracing his features. "I certainly hope so," With the policies and plans that he had in place, some ready to be integrated immediately now that he'd been sworn in, James had every intention of leading the British wizarding world to greatness - by its throat if need be. With time, if he played his cards right, that vision would spread to every western European nation and even the Americas. They'd be the greatest generation their kind had ever seen, and he'd be lying if James tried to say he was being humble about the possibilities he saw.

"Allistair's 14 and Randolph is 10. Should either of those be of interest to you, well, we're certainly not strangers. In a few years, I expect Lucy will begin producing sons as well."

"My niece, Adira, is four now," James remarked, flicking his cigar into the tray between them. Adira was rambunctious and spirited, much like he knew Edith had been as a little one - their families having been friends since James was an infant. "If she's anything like her mother she'll be graceful and principled. Claire is about to turn three, and then there will be the new baby." James wasn't of the mind that Roger's nephews were too old for his girls. Plenty of girls from prestigious families married boys or men that were older. It was more along the lines of if Roger intended for his boys to wait until the girls were of age.

Any children Lucy had would do fine as well - as long as they weren't squibs.

"I'm sure we can work something out." Did it matter how the children would feel in these circumstances? It rarely if ever did. James himself had been arranged to Amelia. Edward to Edith. Leo and Gretchen. His own father and mother. His little cousin Rosie was the only one besides Julia to have escaped such a fate, and the mechanisms had been there to see her married off too if she hadn't run off first.

"I intend to stay in office as long as they'll let me," he quipped, bringing the cigar back to his lips as he beckoned for the server with a slight wave of his hand. "And even beyond then." It widened his grin, his teeth showing around the cigar as the server uncorked a bottle of bourbon with a short bow. Champagne was well and good for such a festive occasion, but celebrations such as these deserved something with a little more bite, the man decided.

In truth, James had no intention of leaving office quietly. If at some point he was deposed or out-elected, he supposed he'd find some way to hold onto the power that he'd accumulated for himself, his family and friends. Influence was a mighty thing, he mused, and a recognizable name propped many doors wide open.

"Well, quite well, actually. The market for sugar still hasn't recovered following that war. Our fields down in Florida are doing overperforming, bringing in twice or three times as much as they did before that mess. The banking sector back up north is picking up again. We have a few investments looking to mature within the next few years."

“I’d expected the Florida yield to improve, though not by quite that margin.” James accepted his glass from the server, unsurprised by the rest. He’d followed the Burkes’ holdings closely enough to know which branches were thriving, which were recovering and which Roger had been patiently waiting to bear fruit. “You were right not to pull back when sugar collapsed. Most men would have panicked, sold the fields at a loss and spent the next decade congratulating themselves for surviving it.”

He raised the bourbon toward him in a small, approving toast. “And if the northern banks are recovering at the rate you predicted, I imagine those investments will mature sooner than expected. You’ve positioned your family well, Roger.” His smile turned faintly conspiratorial. War ruined the sentimental and enriched the prepared; James had never seen much virtue in pretending otherwise.

"And you? I can see things are going quite well on this side of the pond, but how's the family?"

"The family's well," James said with a slow nod, but an obvious sigh took him as he nodded the server away again. "Better anyway. The last year has been something of a challenge."

Between his brother-in-law's trial, his sister falling unexpectedly pregnant and rushing a marriage, and then all the mess with Rosalie and her family....it was a wonder James had been able to focus anything on his campaign. "We lost my cousins to Azkaban. Foolishness, really. I'm sure you've heard about it." If not from Benji, then simple word-of-mouth. Rumors like those didn't stay within family circles for long when law enforcement was involved. "We're down a competent barrister within the ranks. Benji's set for law school, but that still leaves us without an ally in the MLE for the time-being. Suppose that's where my Minister magic comes in." He paused, studying Roger for a moment. "Unless you know of someone?"

His demeanor lightened again. "But there's always a brighter day on the horizon," James said, indicating to the grand displays around them.