This and future chapters are a series of one shots that occur in the alternate universe created by HoldMyBeer's wonderful "The Sum of their Parts" fic;

s/11858167/1/The-Sum-of-Their-Parts

I'm marking everything as M as there is a high probability of that being a relevant marker in a few story lines bouncing in my head at the moment.

None of this is mine and I grateful to be able to play in this side-sandbox of the mega-sandbox created by JK Rowling.

The regal witch carefully stepped through the cluttered floor. Flying brooms, roaring miniature stuffed dragons carefully charmed to not harm the children who slept with them every night and dozens of bright orange wraps that had covered the mischief and mayhem that was the trademark of the Weasleys littered the floor. The remains of a birthday party for a very happy seven year old were beneath her feet.

She had won the present competition for her great-nephew. She almost always won unless she deliberately chose to lose for other advantages.

He was outside with his cousins and adopted families screaming his lungs out on the brand new beginners broom. As soon as he realized what was in the box from his favorite great aunt who had a long history of spoiling him rotten, he ran past the cake and ignored the candles to try to fly outside. His grandmother, her sister, had only shook her head as she had wanted to give him his first real broom but had decided that the gift was better from her sister so that she could more readily take it away from him when he forgot to clean his room or cursed a friend in a momentary temper tantrum.

Almost all of the other adults were outside. Bill Weasley was being ridden like a thestral as a dozen little arms tried to hang onto him. Fleur had to laugh and then lean against a railing, hands cupping her growing belly again. Molly and Arthur were encouraging Ginny to give Teddy and the other children lessons - who else would be the trainer besides the lead Chaser for the Harpies? The young woman smiled and within a minute, she was a streak of black robes and red hair flying through the enchanted sky. Dozens of other children and their grown-ups were working through seconds of the marvelous cake and juice, or trying to play the Muggle game of croquet.

All were happy, all were safe as they were under the protection of the man she was about to meet. She could have gripped her wand. If she was to meet the Dark Lord's chief strategist or his tactician, she would have. Against them, she was still strong and skilled enough for a fighting retreat but against the newest Dark Lord, he would overwhelm her skills as if she was her son instead of a Black daughter.

Instead, she took a moment to breath, once in, hold the air, fill the lungs, allow her heart to beat twice and then out again, slowly emptying herself of all the waste her body produced every moment of living and then doing it again. She stilled and then advanced into the kitchen.

"Mistress Cissy, here is the Dark Lord's portkey" The house-elf looked at the Pureblood Wizamgamot leader with respect but not fear.

"Thank you, my dear, I did not catch your name" She took the dustpan from the female house-elf and smiled as she kept her fingers lightly pressed against the long, over-elongated fingers.

"Maisy, Mistress, my name is Maisy." The house-elf smiled in her soft answer. She was used to be treated well by the Dark Lord and his family, but there were still tails told by house-elves of the treatment that the unlucky few that were bonded to the Malfoys and Lestranges had to endure during the Blood Wars. Only lucky Dobby, free elf Dobby, had been able to escape.

"Again, thank you Maisy." With that, the witch drew herself up to her full height and waited just a few seconds until the dustpan began to glow blue and her stomach churned as she twisted through space and time.

As she was landing, a strong pair of hands reached out for her.

"Steady, steady, I apologize for the landing zone." The Dark Lord had one hand on her forearm where her former husband's colleagues had held a mark and the other on her shoulder. If the circumstances were different, needs could have been fulfilled as the man in front of her was strong and lean and whip smart. She was the age of his parents, and had known them, briefly, at Hogwarts but she still had needs and the wizarding world understood the vagaries of longer life spans and the slower aging process. But those were not the circumstances that led to the welcomed touch.

"Yes, Lord" Her face barely moved as she uttered the two words in a controlled whisper.

"Keep calling me that and I will curse you." His eyes twinkled and there was a hint of a curve in his mouth.

" You can't do that, at least not here, as you vowed on your magic my safety"

"I was mainly thinking of cursing your hair Weasley Red"

"Yet another horror that Lord Potter has inflicted upon the innocent population of Britain and all those who resist. What shall we do..." At this, her fixed face relaxed and she laughed. It was not a giggle or a chuckle. It was a laugh that started in her thighs, rode up through her stomach, pressed hard on her lungs and opened her face as the tension of anticipation released itself.

"Please, have a seat. I have Ogdens and a nice Belgian micro-brew that my spies have told me is quite popular at the Leaky Cauldron." He turned his back to her. She had no vow limiting her magic or her actions. She did nothing besides control her laughter and sat down in a well stuffed chair. A moment later, she could feel the soft caress of a master Legillemens brush against the front of her mind. Instantly, a brown bottle of floral tinged beer appeared with a pint glass.

"So, Lord Potter, besides sharing a beer with me, why do we need to talk?"

"Is that reason enough?"

"If there was not a 50,000 Galleon prize on your head, yes. But since there is one, you must have a reason to break your security to talk with me."

"I need to ask you for two things Lady Black."

She looked at him, intently. His wand was still holstered, he was relaxed and he was open in his face. She could read his face, but it was a stage face. Little quivers of nervousness flitted across his eyes. Odd.

"Ask for the easier thing first then."

He shifted, bit his bottom lip for a moment, reminding her, the veteran of now three civil wars, how young he truly was.

"I need a conservative opposition in the Wizamgamut. And that means either you or Greengrass as the pole of opposition. I trust you. I seldom agree with you but I trust your integrity and I trust your judgement, so I want you to lead the opposition."

She paused, waiting for him to speak. Time stretched as silence echoed between the two. The idea turned over in her head. There were factions within the chamber, there always were.

Longbottom was the leader of the reformist radicals. The young scion had been surprisingly skilled in collecting support and distributing spoils. He controlled a tactical blocking minority that always pressed for an expansion of the public sphere away from the Purebloods and the inherited aristocracy. McDonald and her band of twenty seven or so allies were aligned with Shacklebolt. They often were voting with Longbottom's crowd after sanding down rough spots in language and smoothing out disputes, but none of them particularly wanted the future that Potter desired; instead, they wanted a peaceful present. Appeasement gave them that. Potter and his allies had only struck twice in the past thirteen months.

Around her, there were twenty two votes who were losing most of the time. They had money, they had connections and they all had history together. Some had been Death Eater adjacent in the Blood Wars, most had tried to straddle the fence. Doing that had resulted in more than one impalement, figuratively and twice literally. Greengrass was quiet, effective and always maneuvering for his own economic advantage. She had the advantage of literally knowing where the bodies were buried. The Malfoy fortune had been renamed, but she kept enough of the gold and all of the knowledge that her deceased husband had squirreled away and had insufficient time to waste on Voldemort.

And then there were a dozen reactionaries. This faction had been culled. No more were there any Marked members. They had died at the hands and curses of Potter, Granger and Weasley. It barely mattered. McNairs, Yaxley, and Rookwood heirs and cadet branches had all lost greatly and they were bitter. And they could offer the wavering opposition the chance to wallow in their losses.

"I see. And how would you help me become the opposition leader?"

"We would need to plan and fail in a public attempt to assassinate you... that should help you consolidate your position?"

"Should I trust that you will miss?"

"Yes. I will make any vow that you desire, and Hermione will make the same vow."

"No need, I trust your word. Just don't do it this week or next Tuesday as I have to see Teddy in the afternoon and I would not like to distress him."

"Very well, would next Wednesday at 9:30 near Gringotts work for you. As soon as you see anything, duck low and head to your right. We will be using Draco's wand that we took from him. "

"So that was the simple request, Lord Potter, plotting my hopefully failed assassination. What is the difficult request?"

"I need the recipe for your chocolate trifle. Teddy won't eat any desert that I have prepared for him in the past three months as Auntie Cissy's trifle is so much yummier." The young man was out of sorts as he had become a Dark Lord for his godson and he was losing the affection of the young boy's stomach to a superior option.

"Lord Potter, that is far more difficult... my elves will not approve and given the recent legislation, I have to treat them with at least a modicum of respect." Her eyes flashed with humor.

"I see, I will curse Hermione for advancing that law too early."

"There may be something we can do; trade you the trifle for the Banana's Foster recipe Andi has been gloating about?"

He extended his hand and they shook. An assissination and a recipe, this was a productive meeting.