beside the victory, that's her destiny [eris]

june 2002

On Wednesdays, they drank wine.

The tradition certainly hadn’t come about because of the alliteration, of course, and it didn’t happen every Wednesday. They were grown women with lives, after all. So when they did get the chance, they made the most of it; or, they made as much of an evening they could while still being surrounded by muggles also taking advantage of the Wednesday evening drink special at the fancy hotel restaurant -- one they had visited countless times but Varya still hadn’t deemed it worthy of committing its name to memory. It was muggle and London still didn’t feel like home, so she didn’t very well see the point.

Varvara Stepanovna was running late; she kept her stride as wide as she possibly could in her black pencil skirt, her heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement. She had apparated close by, but yet another downfall to taking advantage of the lack of important people to eavesdrop on their conversation by immersing themselves in muggles was the inability to apparate directly. Even floo was out of the question.

She was shown to their shared table immediately; she knew something about her face said ‘don’t make me wait’. Varya straightened her collar as she walked, careful to make sure it wasn’t curling up at the edges. @Eris Rosier was already there, naturally, and Varya offered her friend the most apologetic of smiles as she filled the open seat across from her.

“Apologies.” Varya tucked her knees under the tablecloth and leaned in, resting an elbow on the table to get a bit closer and make her tale all the more dramatic. “A patient had the nerve to vomit on me.” She quirked an eyebrow as she straightened up, removing her elbow from the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I had to… clean up.” It was nothing serious; he would be better by morning.

She hoped that Eris hadn’t waited on her before ordering; she would really like to take advantage of a little bit of lead time on that first drink.

Eris returned Varvara’s smile, slowly and deliberately, as the Russian woman approached. She had been here for twenty minutes or so already – she had left the office early, before the incompetence (or rather, competence) of Quigley’s work had forced her to reveal her true nature by cursing him in the middle of the Auror Department. Eris had assigned the man a cold case in the hopes it would send him on a wild goose chase, clutching at crumbs, but he’d been irritatingly resourceful and uncovered evidence she had hoped didn’t exist. Unfortunate, for him.

The Auror’s light blue eyes roamed over her friend as she sat down, the pureblood witch almost admiring the muggle-like clothing Varya was wearing. They had to dress appropriately, coming to a place like this. A mild hindrance, but worth it to protect themselves. Not that they exclusively talked about their less savoury affairs, but one couldn’t risk being overheard in their respective lines of business.

Thankfully, it was at least a classy establishment, and Eris didn’t have to resort to wearing denim jeans or some such monstrosity. She could still remember having to wear the wretched things during her Auror Training – being able to blend in was a talent, apparently. The Englishwoman couldn’t understand how anyone thought them comfortable, nor stylish. Today, she was not wearing jeans, or anything of the sort; Eris had traded her robes for a tailored, knee-length black dress with sheer sleeves, pairing it with patent stilettos. Who said black wasn’t a summer colour?

“How dreadful.” Eris sympathised as Varya explained her lateness, but only marginally. The Russian had chosen the medical profession; she had known she would be dealing with people at their worst on a daily basis. Eris had never once had the slightest inclination to become a Healer. She would much rather just put an end to people’s suffering than to prolong it. Natural selection and all that. “I’m glad you did.” She wrinkled her nose the tiniest amount at the mere thought of Varya showing up in vomit-stained clothes.

The waiter reappeared at this moment and presented the bottle to the women. Eris nodded, turning her attention back to Varya as the young man poured their glasses. “I ordered the Bordeaux. I presumed you wouldn’t mind.” Or wouldn’t say so, at least. Eris was hardly going to sit waiting for an indeterminate amount of time without a drink to quench her thirst, not after the day she’d had. The blonde picked up her glass and took a sip, glanced at the waiter, then back to Varvara. “Do you want dinner? We might be here a while, I think I need your help.”

“Awfully dreadful.” She didn’t think that Eris fully understood what she had meant by ‘clean up’ but she was sure she would understand in due course of the evening. Varya would have a little wine, would think about things a little too much, and there it would be, for both of them to know equally. Varya tilted her head to show that she was also glad she had done it, though this time she was referring to changing her clothes, and not poisoning an ill patient for having the nerve to wretch.

Varya only glanced at the waiter and the wine -- neither were really worth her time or attention -- and she nodded as Eris spoke again. “Not at all.” She preferred a pinot noir, but there was always the chance that this wouldn’t be a one-bottle type of evening; they often weren’t. She’d have a chance to drink what she really wanted, and she certainly wouldn’t mind the bordeaux. She had been late arriving, after all.

She picked up her own glass as her friend did the same, the taste hitting her squarely even though she had reminded herself that it was time for wine, not vodka. “Later, perhaps. I’m still recovering.” She slid her menu forward with a nudge of her fingers, indicating that the waiter could take it away for now. He didn’t move, however, so she picked it up and handed it to him, still not making eye contact with him. Was everyone out to get her on her last nerve today?

“I can stay as long as you need.” She picked up her glass again once she had gotten her menu taken care of, and she took another sip. She genuinely didn’t have plans, and she had been spending less and less time at home since that unfortunate discovery. “I hope I can be of assistance?” She needed to get that energy out somehow.

Eris tipped her chin an indeterminate amount and averted her gaze to signal that she also would not be needing her menu. She didn’t particularly desire to eat alone, and wasn’t hungry at this point in time. She could always request something light later on if the wine started going to her head. The waiter retreated, if a little belatedly, and Eris remained silent until he was well out of earshot – she suspected he was intrigued by their presence. The pair of them didn’t give off quite the same… vibe as most of the other diners. They weren't sore thumbs as such, but there was definitely something off.

“I have a… delicate situation,” The blonde began, crossing her legs under the table and reclining back a little in her seat. Her long fingers stroked the stem of her wine glass absently. “And I need a solution.” She gazed around the room and was unable to hide the disdain on her features when her eyes fell upon a portly man at a table not far away, chewing his steak with his mouth open. Eris didn't need to read the thoughts of the young woman across from him to know that she wasn’t the least bit pleased to be there. Revolting.

The Death Eater turned her face back towards Varvara. “Someone has been poking their nose in where I don't want them, and I need him gone.” Really, he was proving himself to be perhaps the only competent Auror in her office, but she didn't want nor need competence from the people who worked under her. She needed people who were easily led astray, hotheads who were happy to chase minor dark wizards so that Eris might cover the tracks of those who might some day prove useful. Alas, Eris couldn't just rid herself of the man - not in the usual manner, at least. It needed to be discreet, inconspicuous. “Ideally, he'll appear to have gone missing, we can pretend to search for him for a few weeks. I don't care if he shows up dead or just braindead, he simply needs to be incapacitated somehow.” Her tone was as casual as if she might be discussing the weather. 

"I could kill him, but there's always a chance something will lead back to me. I need him to--" she waved her hand around as she searched for the right words, an odd little smile playing across her lips at the thought, "-- do it under his own volition, as it were." She lifted her glass and surveyed the ruby-red liquid within. "Do you have anything that might make a man want to kill himself, Varya?" The Auror drank deeply, glancing across the table at her friend.