The Master of the house was pacing, his black velvet robes tracing the floor with its hem. An eerily green fire was burning in the hearth, and Draco was obviously obsessive about something; Daphne should be about any time, and Draco intended to hear her perspective on the matter vexing him. He had been drinking, but apparently couldn't handle much, since half a bottle of wine rested precariously upon the mantle. Draco was muttering to himself, trying to work something out - and it didn't sound good.
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Daphne took one of Draco's hands and held it to her cheek, leaning lightly against it. "I would have you tell the whole of wizarding Britain that the Ministry has created itself in such a way that it cannot be challenged by members of the public it ostensibly serves. Take your battle to the press and show them the injustice, the impenetrable shield, that the Ministry uses to falsely imprison, infinitely hold, and otherwise abuse innocent wizards and witches. The system is hopelessly broken. Get the people to rally around reform. Destroy the Ministry's current workings while looking like a champion for wizarding rights. Come out looking like a hero of the people rather than the ghoul they'd have you seem," Daphne said, meeting Draco's eyes, happy to have the chance to tell him her way of doing things.
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