Innocence lost [Michael]

Rosaline Bane's world had turned upside down. She had never expected her grandfather, Sampson Bane, to ask her to be branded like a slave. She hadn't any choice. She had had to go through with it, just as Basil had. She was a marked Death Eater, though thankfully had created a concealer-infused potion specifically to cover magical scars and markings. It was still in it's experimental stages, but she was confident enough in it that she had been using it on a daily basis. Thus far, she had had no side-effects. After her induction into the underground pureblood society, Rosaline had spent the following week in Paris with her friend, Cabhan Daley. The two had a very brief fling before he had to return to school.

On the day following what would have been the start of term, Rosaline had sat down for her morning tea and breakfast only to open the Daily Prophet to read the terrible news. Something horrible had happened at Hogwarts, but some sort of a ward kept any more Ministry personnel from getting to the school. All inside were assumed dead. Her mother, Persephone Bane. Her brother, Steffan Greene. Her sister, Alis Wickham. Her cousin, Basil Stringfellow. Her friends, Cabhan Daley and Lorin Odell, among others. They were all gone, and suddenly more weight had been added to her shoulders. She sent for her toddler sister, Ilona, and Ilona's nanny to stay at her townhouse in London. One of the spare bedrooms had been transformed into a nursery almost overnight, and she had spared no expense. To her knowledge, she and Ilona were now orphans.

She felt as if the world, while it had tipped upside down, had landed squarely on her shoulders as she strode into the abandoned red telephone booth used by visitors to the Ministry of Magic Headquarters in London. She dialed 62442, clutching her dragonhide briefcase to her as she followed the prompts from the operator and descended into the underground headquarters of their government. She was to report to the Ministry of Magic's Public Information Services department and meet with Michael Evans. She remembered him from Hogwarts, though they hadn't been on good terms. She hoped that they could move past that and behave in a professional manner, at least for the sake of her purpose. The Banes desperately needed to do some PR work to maintain their place in the new government. Her grandfather had arranged for her to work on a "togetherness" campaign for pureblood/muggleborn relations. Of course, the Banes still maintained their anti-muggleborn attitudes behind the scenes. However, the public would never know that. And neither would her new partner.

Rose tugged nervously at the sleeve of her cardigan as she entered the building. The atrium was beautiful, and she admired the architecture with a smile before making her way through the Ministry until she came upon a section of office space next to a sign that read Public Information Services. As expected, a tall, blonde Michael Evans stood waiting for her. He was better looking than she'd remembered, but she hadn't forgotten his blood status. Her mouth curled up into a polite, sincere-looking smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Evans." She extended a hand to shake his. "How have you been?"

Michael had been told that he would be getting a “special assignment.” Usually, this meant that whatever he was going to do would almost certainly piss him off, but as the newest PR Rep, he got to do all of the shit no one else wanted to do. He took solace in the fact that the new hire, Nathalie, was doing all the bitch work instead of him. That was one thing to be thankful for. As he read through the fine, his brows furrowed deeper. They wanted him to do what? Partner with some uppity pureblood bitch to make her dark family seem less death eater-y? Sometimes Michael hated his job, but he didn't hate it enough to leave.

While it was true that Michael distrusted the purebloods as a rule, and while he wasn't a fan of death eaters... he had come to adopt a more workable attitude towards both. If they weren't trying to kill him, particularly, then he would just have to go along with it. He saw no point in fighting against a system he could benefit from with just a few well-placed or well-timed words or favors. In fact, he'd quite devoted himself to the line of work that he was in. He was, in many ways, a puppet. He said whatever the upper ministry officials wanted him to say, and he said it as persuasively and enthusiastically as if the words were his own. He knew that his leaders didn't care about the welfare of mudbloods, and, as much as he hated seeing them win, he would rather be on the winning side.

The Bane family name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He met a lot of uppity pureblood bitches when he was at Hogwarts. As a Slytherin, he had no choice but to come face to face with each one. He put the file onto the desk and hoped that, at least, whoever he was meeting had the sense to let him call the shots. He was the professional, after-all. He'd expected to meet with the family patriarch or matriarch or someone else old and wrinkly. What he hadn't expected was the put-together woman who walked into his office door. Rosaline.

He remembered her, briefly. He remembered that she used to be an epic bitch to him, but other than that he wasn't sure of anything else. She hung around the creepy snake dude, that Regan thug, the fat princess, and Cabhan. She was the year below him, but graduated his year. He gave her a curt nod. “And here I was expecting to meet with someone important.” He quipped, though he stood from his desk to greet her anyway. He gave her hand a brief shake. Her hands were soft. She probably hadn't worked a day in her life. Then again, neither had he.

“Call me Michael.” He offered. “It's going to take a lot of work to make your family look sympathetic to muggleborns, but if anyone can do it, I can.” He knew he was being harsh. She hadn't really done anything to affront him, but this was Michael's game. He always came out swinging. He worked better when he could bounce off a reasonable amount of dislike and distrust from his partners.