[TDP] We all have to come home Some Day... (Melissa Knox)

It had been almost four years since Iago had set foot in London. He’d been in the country sure, but he’d only visited the Moriarty estate, or the banes, or other family, friends, customers…. He had made it a point to avoid London. His wife had died here; no… been murdered here. He’d lost everything here. He’d been chased away for crimes that had nothing to do with him, or his young family. All because when people saw him, they still saw his father. It was something that had angered him after he had buried his wife, and for the months afterwards, but now it had calmed to some extent, though he still held a great deal of bitterness. After all, the ministry had never learned who had started that fire. Had they bothered looking? Had they even tried to solve the crime? A woman had died. A good woman. And several inhabitants as well. But Isabella had thrown in her lot with him, and her own family had rejected her. So why should the ministry be any different.

At least this time, he was here in an official capacity as Iago Costello, not wanting to resume the Moriarty mantle just yet. He still needed to feel things out; after all he couldn’t have someone coming in to finish what they’d started… Phineas and Perdita were too precious to put their lives in danger for a political statement. And all he wanted to do at present was find someone willing to temporarily relocate to Italy to be a Governess for his children. They spoke a lot of Italian at home, but everyone also spoke English so he hoped getting them some more exposure to the language would help. And it would free up Lara, who really was in no condition to be caring for two rambunctious children anyways.

He sighed softly, looking up at the Daily Prophet building, hoping this all went smoothly. He really didn’t want to be in london any longer then he had to, and he hated jumping timezones; but he’d made it a point to at least try not to miss dinner with his kids unless he had to. Sighing, he walked up the steps of the building, running his hand through his brown hair, much shorter then it had been on his last trip to london. He’d hacked off his ponytail when he realized toddlers loved to pull hair. Looking around the Lobby, it was still before lunch, and there weren’t that many people in here, so he started to head for the front desk, hoping someone there could explain to him how this worked.

@Melissa Knox

It was beyond her comprehension why everyone was being so heavily incompetent that day; had they all drunk a stupidity potion and Melissa had the misfortune of dealing with all their inadequacies? The editor gracefully massaged her temple as she left her office, stopping in front of her assistant’s desk, right outside her chambers. She placed several parchments on Arawn’s desk, and sighed heavily. It was easy to take note that the materials in question had more red ink on them than blue. Her writers were being heavily complacent due to the good sales this month, and this was showing in their work. “Make sure that before you send them back, you write a note on each of them emphasising that there will be no monetary bonus unless they correct all mistakes.” She commented to her assistant, who already picked up some light green parchments, to prepare the notes.

“My correspondence?” Melissa then inquired, just for Arawn to reveal slight rosiness in his cheeks; he’d forgotten to pick it up. The witch smiled sweetly in her assistant’s direction; she did not take offence, for she was highly aware the receptionist did even the impossible to have Arawn visit her at least several times each day; he was very handsome, her assistant, reason why he was hired in the first place. Him being efficient was a wonderful bonus indeed, but his handsomeness had definitely been the reason Melissa had even considered taking in a halfblood as her protégé; of course, aside from the fact that she was to present herself as an open-minded individual. He had gotten up from his chair, but Melissa nonchalantly gesticulated in his direction. “I shall go; I need a break anyway.” She remarked, and then turned around on her heel, her dress gently twirling as she headed towards the elevator.

Reaching the ground floor, Melissa ran a hand through her hair as she made her way out of the lift. The attendant had inquired whether or not he should wait for her, to which Melissa merely replied with a wave of her hand, revealing that he could leave, should another need the use the lift. In the end, Melissa desired to address the incompetence of the receptionist as well; as much as the welcome witch fancied her assistant, not offering him her correspondence and thus causing impediments to her work’s effectiveness did pose an issue.

Of course that the receptionist wasn’t even there. Melissa exhaled, extremely irritated. With a gentle movement of her wrist, the envelopes addressed to her person levitated on the front desk, and as she picked them up, and was about to turn around, she’d noticed a familiar figure — it was her job to know everyone who was anyone after all. A polite smile surfaced, as she addressed the wizard. “I’m afraid our receptionist seems to have left for lunch earlier than scheduled.” Melissa suppressed her irritation, yet refused to openly apologise for the future former employee of the Prophet’s incompetence. “But is there anything I can personally help you with, Mr Costello?”

The journalist extended her hand, formally presenting herself. “Melissa Knox, Senior Political Editor.”

It was with dismay that Iago realized there was no one behind the reception desk, his lip twitching in irritation. Honestly; it wasn’t even noon yet, and he had other matters he needed to handle. Not to mention the time difference. He checked his watch, the pearl inlaid hands showing his current time, and the deep jade green pointing at the time in Italy, in an attempt to estimate when he’d need to be home by. Perdita had insisted she be allowed to tell the elves what was for dinner tonight, something Iago allowed once in a great while, so chances were they were having Macaroni and Cheese Pizza with ham and bacon, or something else utterly ridiculous, that somehow turned out not to be half bad. Even though it was only an hour difference, it had taken him a while to get used to it.

The sweet lilt of the female voice behind him caught his attention as he turned, doing his best to get rid of the irritation off his face. Having children seemed to have made it harder to keep a straight face most of the time. The fact that she knew his name without asking betrayed the fact that she knew exactly who he was, and either out of pity, or respect, had the presence of mind not to use the name Moriarty. “Actually, if you have the time to help me around a rather simple task, I would greatly appreciate it. I’m certain you usually have far more important tasks to manage then putting in a simple help wanted ad.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly, as was his usual custom with women. Between the accent he now carried, having lived in the country for so long, and the bit of color he’d acquired to his skin thanks to the mediterranean sun, Iago could pull off the more tactile greeting and not seem out of place. “I remember you. Though I don’t expect you to remember me. You were a prefect my first year, I believe. Or maybe my second. My elder sister Lara was only a year below you.” but he wasn’t really here to talk about the past, and school.

“I was hoping to put in an add looking for a young woman to be a governess for my two young children. I could have found one in italy,...” his voice dropped a little. “But I want one that speaks English, as I do plan to return to England before they’re of school age. With my own name.” It was a point of pride for him that he be able to return home, and call himself Moriarty.