[MP] to discriminate only generates hate [Amelia]

Despite it being the middle of the standard Ministry lunch hour, the canteen was quiet as Joanna entered. Not that she was surprised. Most of her squad had also conveniently taken this week as a holiday. No doubt a large portion of the British Ministry were getting absolutely hammered in Germany for Wizarding Oktoberfest. And no doubt they would all be back next week still feeling the effects, despite trying to counteract them with countless hangover potions. Her squad would definitely be on desk duty the first few days back. It was far too risky to shove their hungover backsides into the field.

Joanna would have loved to go, she could admit privately. A week in beautiful Bavaria sounded amazing. The rich history and culture of the area was fascinating, and she was sure the atmosphere of Oktoberfest was something that should be experienced once. It would probably not be something she would enjoy, but it was definitely something to say you have done. However, she had instead authorised several of her direct reports to go, and remained underground in London. Away from beautiful fairytale style castles and deep forests. Clearly she had chosen the better option, Joanna thought sarcastically as she dealt with her understaffed team.

The morning had been suspiciously quiet. Almost as if it was luring her into a false sense of security before something big hit. However, Joanna wasn’t easily fooled. Her guard was always up. She had used the time to her advantage though, managing to pull paperwork for a similar string of dark item finds. The initial investigation had stagnated, but Joanna was sure that there would be some detail that was missing. What did a cursed watch, an enchanted pair of shoes and a deadly umbrella have in common apart from all being innocent objects that had tried to maim multiple wizards?

All the items had been sent as anonymous packages, two as birthday presents and the rest as mail order shopping. The mail orders were all from different shops, and none of the shops had any records of these items having been sent. In one case a wallet had been sent from a florist! The intended victims were from a mixture of backgrounds and political viewpoints, although there had been only one pureblood so far. Joanna was sure that an effective raid on Knockturn Alley would turn up more information, but it would take planning to ensure the crooks were caught off guard. And so part of her work this morning had been sending a fake tip off to one of her informants regarding an interested buyer. Maybe that would cause one of the vermin to come crawling out the woodwork?

Putting aside the thoughts of her morning’s dealings, Joanna took a seat at an empty table. Her lunch had been haphazardly thrown together that morning, Joanna having forgotten to go shopping the day before. After ensuring her dad had taken the rest of the soup, Joanna had used the small piece of remaining cheese to wedge between the final slice of bread. Her pathetic looking sandwich was accompanied by a slightly bruised apple, a chocolate frog and three ice mice. Balanced it was not. But she would pop to the shops after work that night. Otherwise it would be a suspicious frozen leftover at the back of the freezer for dinner!

Setting her lunch out in front of her, Joanna had a lazy bite of her sandwich as she shook out her crumpled copy of the Prophet. Naturally the front page was all about Oktoberfest, full of exciting details that she was not privy to witnessing. Scanning the main heading, Joanna flipped onto the next page and scoffed. Disgusted. Her two currently most hated topics on the same page. Gaius Purcell and Sweden. Choking down the mouthful she was chewing on before she could spit it out in disgust, Joanna read the text, becoming rapidly angrier at the state of the world.

The smarmy murderous d-!

He just prances around the world like he owns it now he’s been released! She should have killed him when she had the chance. Say it was a freak accident or something. Or just accept the consequences. It would have been worth it to rid the world of that c-. The paper was littered with mentions of him, apparently he’d also graced a Quidditch Gala with his presence. Lucky them! She was surprised to find her own letter in the paper, having half expected the editor to refuse to let any criticism of Melissa Knox to surface. The surprised quickly gave way to revulsion as her eyes scanned over to the rebuttal piece.

This man was trying to claim that allowing Gaius to spout his murderous bile and bigotry was freedom of speech and good for business! Her hands shaking slightly in rage as she read, Joanna barely noticed a shadow falling across the text. Glancing up, and clearing her facial expression as she did, she smiled. “Oh, Amelia!” She greeted warmly. Joanna had very few dealings with her, but the two women got on reasonably well when they had interacted. “Please join me,” she gestured at the chair opposite. “Sorry that I didn’t see you sooner, I was just reading this trash!” Joanna shook the newspaper in her friend’s direction. “Have you seen it?”

@Amelia Lennox

It was quiet today at the Ministry; Amelia, foolishly, almost assumed that the Ministry had just become quieter in her absence, ‘til she heard a few coworkers talking about Oktoberfest. Ah. She wondered idly if anybody she knew (John) was going, and then forgot about it for the next half hour. She’d only just restarted at the Ministry, and was doing busywork to start with. Translating memos into Gobbledegook, and then duplicating them. Things were not, it seemed, going well for Ministry-Goblin relations, but then all she was doing was interpreting.

She was grateful for her lunch break; she’d been rushed on her way out, and had only had a banana and half of a day-old coffee for breakfast. Though she’d been able to supplement her bad, cold coffee by getting bad, hot coffee for free at one of the stands on her floor, she was starved, and once she’d finished her stack of copies she slapped them into a crate and made her way to the elevators.

The canteen was quiet— that’d be the German party— and Amelia was tempted to take one of the many empty tables and eat alone when she spotted Joanna Hennings, a woman she’d met before and rather liked, furiously reading the newspaper. Before she realised she’d changed her mind, she was already crossing the canteen to stand near her, and waited for a moment to be noticed (should she cough? clear her throat?) before Joanna looked up and invited her to sit, asking if she'd read the Prophet that morning.

“I didn’t have the time,” she admitted. “Got up to the trade deal with Japan before I had to leave, this morning— meant to finish it later today. Do you think Purcell is back in England? You wouldn’t imagine he’d risk that!”

She frowned, then, registering for the first time what Joanna was eating. Bread and cheese and an apple that had seen far, far better days. And candy, but Amelia couldn't blame Joanna for the candy. If she'd eaten that apple, she'd have needed Ice Mice too.

“Merlin, that can’t be your lunch,” she remarked, unthinkingly. Amelia had packed lightly today— some small meat pies she’d been planning to reheat, and some fruit— but as she unpacked her lunch she pushed a pie over at her companion. “You want one? I’m not going to finish them.”

“Is the rest of it just as bad?” she added, leaning over a little to catch a glimpse of the paper spread on the table. “Oh, it’s that boy band.”

Joanna smiled as Amelia took a seat, before her expression dropped upon mention of the trade deal. More like crooked medieval countries sticking together against modernity, equality and progress! “Eurgh, that trade deal!” She said with a face displaying exactly what she thought of it. “Japan refers to Sweden as a beacon of hope!” Joanna rustled the newspaper to find the relative article and stab her finger at the words. “Beacon of hope! More like beacon for discrimination, prejudice and darkness!”

She pondered Amelia’s question for a minute. Was Gaius Purcell back in Britain? Joanna would have thought an intelligent figure would have stayed away. Gone to live in Sweden - they clearly wanted him there. But he was an arrogant pr-. He was self entitled and knew that he could actually get away with murder! “It wouldn’t surprise me. He clearly thinks he owns the world, so why wouldn’t he deign to go wherever he liked.” Her finger had moved to cover the smirk of Gaius Purcell’s black and white face, pretending it was his actual face and she was suffocating him to death. Oh, she would love to watch him get his comeuppance and that smug look slowly disappear. “Don’t know how in Merlin’s name he is allowed to be around children though! You’d think the priority would be ensuring he doesn’t corrupt any young minds with his vile spoutings.”

Joanna was of the personal belief that all families involved in dark activity following the war should have had all their wealth and possessions confiscated. How dare the scum continue to wriggle their way out of facing the consequences for their actions because they could pay and bribe Tom, Dick and Harry! It simply was not right that the amassed wealth of interbred purebloods controlled major businesses. And allowing minors to remain in the care of these people was ludicrous. It was asking for members of the next generation to grow up with a skewed sense of right and wrong.

Glancing down at her lunch, Joanna wondered how bad it actually looked. She certainly wasn’t aiming to get the entire Ministry talking about how she couldn’t even make her own lunch properly. Sure, now that she looked at it spread out on the table, it certainly wasn’t a pretty sight. But it wasn’t bad enough to warrant being offered half of someone else’s lunch! “No thank you,” Joanna declined politely. “It’s fine. I just forgot to buy groceries yesterday so had to do a cupboard scrounge this morning! I’ll go shopping this evening though.”

Joanna turned the paper round to face Amelia. She was able to read upside down mostly proficiently, and she desperately wanted Amelia to read the same thing she had just seen. Mainly, because Joanna was sure her companion would have a similar reaction to her. And sometimes it was nice to just share these feelings. Vocally.

“Yeah. Minus the interesting situation going on in Russia, it’s all rubbish. Death Eaters, gossip and boy bands. Makes me wonder why I pay for it. I feel like I’m encouraging this crud but it’s not like there’s any other options.” Joanna laughed, “I mean, unless you count the Quibbler. But really, you need to be a code breaker to read that!” Half the Quibbler’s articles were nonsense. And the problem was trying to tell apart the nonsense from the insightful pieces. Frankly there was enough nonsense in the Prophet. Joanna didn’t think she could put up with anything more.

“Apparently that Charlie Barker has got married. If the gossip column is anything to go by though then he’s probably already cheated on the poor woman multiple times.” She shook her head at this. “Honestly, you wonder why he got married in the first place!” He was rich, famous and probably viewed by screaming fans as attractive. Joanna was sure he could have continued his life without marriage. It just seemed an entirely pointless thing to do if he was just going to continue on as normal. Maybe if you had that much money though a marriage was really just an excuse for an extravagant party? The actual marriage part meaning very little. She supposed his new wife was probably well compensated being married to a rock star.

“That Melissa Knox though…” Joanna started ominously. “laughs sweetly, giggles, teasingly aches an eyebrow,” she quoted from the paper. “She’s a piece of work. Did you see that interview last month?” Joanna asked and continued without pausing. The entire wizarding community had seen that article. And all the decent members of it had reacted, rightly, with disgust and horror. “I swear she must be a supporter herself, the amount of fawning over him she did!” Joanna let a shudder run through her as she continued. “And to blatantly suggest Gaius Purcell should be Minister of Magic over Kingsley Shacklebolt! What runs through someone’s head to think that is a reasonable, or good, idea?” If Joanna had her way, Melissa Knox would be hauled in for questioning. She clearly had dark sympathies and being in a position of prominence meant she was dangerous and needed to be watched.

Flicking forward a page, Joanna stabbed her finger at a small article at the bottom of the newspaper, closest to Amelia. “Here, read that.” She suggested, “Gaius Purcell strikes again!” Allowing Amelia time to read, Joanna took another bite of her sandwich. Hmmm, a meat pie would definitely have been nicer, but it wasn’t that bad. Once it was apparent that she was finished reading, Joanna spoke up again. “I mean, can you believe it? A nineteen year old date!? And just allowed to waltz into an exclusive gala!” She was enraged. The man needed to be nowhere except either back in Azkaban or in a grave. Preferably the second option.

“Can’t say I followed much of Sweden or Japan,” said Amelia sheepishly, “but I admit I know very little about either government. It’s discomfiting, though— when they discussed Nystrom’s policies in September they didn’t say a word about it. Treated it as though blatant human rights violations and suppression of the press are on the same level of—” She couldn’t remember precisely what other policies Nystrom had enacted, so incensed had she been by the discrimination, and so she shrugged and threw out “womens’ rights. Makes me wonder who’s running the paper. Do they think we’re blind?”

Amelia frowned, musing over Joanna’s next words. “Is there a child at the Ó Síoda Manor? I assumed if so, she’d be in school— though I suppose, if the Ministry can’t stop him from coming back, there’s no way to keep him away from her. I hope she’s well protected, poor thing.” Amelia gave Joanna’s lunch another long glance— only one pie would have improved it so much— but accepted Joanna’s refusal with a nod.

She leaned over the table as her companion pushed the newspaper closer, now open to an interview with Charlie Baker. “Russia’s worrying me,” she agreed. “I don’t know why anybody would go ‘round trying to inflame all this tension— but it’s foolish.” She’d grown up around goblins, and had worked closely with them the first time she’d worked in this department: she knew better than to hope that it wasn’t some bitter muggleborn. Though she knew, logically, that murdering purebloods was giving them more reason to loathe anyone of lesser blood status, she also knew that it was partly about strength, making a point. Making points about strength had kicked off a number of the most famous goblin rebellions.

But she wasn’t quite willing to let Joanna bash on Charlie Baker, whose music she didn’t hate (and whose music her daughter rather liked.) “Who says the gossip column is anything to go by?” she countered. “I take it with a grain of salt, myself— I’m happy he’s found someone, and I hope they’re happy together. I don’t have the time to worry about Charlie Baker and his wife. I’m sure they’re very in love.” Whether they stayed in love, she couldn’t say— she had followed her share of celebrity romances as a teenager and knew they often ended, but she didn’t care much either way.

“Oh, his interview infuriated me,” she said, happy to move onto something she did have an opinion of. “Framing him as the victim, when who knows how many are dead because of him.” Though Amelia had never liked the concept of Azkaban, it was certainly better for him than it’d been for prisoners during the war, or prisoners for the last centuries, for that matter. And Melissa Knox could can it, with her lingering sighs and mournful silk handkerchiefs— he’d visited unimaginable horrors on people, with his HRU, and he deserved prison— not a goddamn government position.

“I don’t reckon she realised how she sounded,” she agreed, “but you’re right, she came across very sympathetic to him. Makes me wonder too— though I reckon wondering is all we’ll ever do. She did choose a Muggleborn for this interview.”

She pulled the newspaper closer and frowned down at the article Joanna pointed out, skimming it quickly. Though Joanna’s first comment afterwards was about the girl’s youth, Amelia was concerned otherwise: “He’s a criminal and she’s a magizoologist— Merlin, why were they at a Quidditch gala?”

There was an article next to it about another of those boy band singers; Amelia decided not to bring this one up. She skimmed down a bit further and spotted the word goblin— “Do you mind?” she asked, and then quickly read that article as well. “I’ve never heard of dwarves warring with goblins,” she said. “Rather thought they were myths, tell you the truth. Wonder why they’re surfacing now. American goblins must be a lot different from British ones— I’ve never heard of a Goblin who fundraised.”

Amelia passed the paper back to her companion— “Anything else of note?” She knew this was a poor move, asking for someone else to fill her in on the paper, but consoled herself with the thought that she’d read it herself once she was home.

Joanna contained her scoff of disbelief. Very in love! Unlikely! These celebrity romances rarely lasted. They rushed through everything and did things on a whim. If she had been a betting woman, Joanna would have placed money on news of Charlie Barker’s first extra-marital affair breaking by November. It was true that gossip columns stirred stuff up and made things up to sell papers, but she had no reason to doubt anything they said about Banshee. He seemed to have appeared with a different woman every time he appeared. At least develop some discretion!

Was she bitter? Joanna worried. Her mind never went to happy ever after but instead how things could break down. Was that part of the reason why she was single? Because she was not ‘open to love’ or whatever hippy dippy, flower power expression they could apply. She wanted to be in a relationship, she really did, there was just always more important things to do! And she had to sleep at some point too. Managing to prioritise something as mundane as dating had slipped by her. And now she was destined to be alone. Although, she was having that meal with Graeme soon...

“I think you’re underestimating her intelligence,” Joanna cautioned. “She didn’t get to where she is by being dumb. Every word is analysed. And for such a piece then even more so.” Journalists should definitely undergo some sort of checks to ensure their political leanings. It was too dangerous to allow certain, evil beliefs to have a free platform. “I reckon every sentence was designed deliberately. And why raise his blood status at all?” It had been extremely unimportant to the interview, and was it she was deliberately setting the topic. Trying to bring blood status into the mind once more.

 “The rich can go anywhere they like,” Joanna scoffed bitterly. All of Gaius’ assets should have been seized. She imagined he wouldn’t be quite so smug and apparently charming - she didn’t see it - without his millions of galleons to back him up. It was dirty money. Built up over the years from backroom dealings and corrupt business. Really, it should have all been confiscated and reclaimed years ago. She could only imagine the amount of good that could be done with that money.  The research it could fund, the charities it could support, but instead it kept a murderous psychopath in the lap of luxury. Life may not be fair but Joanna determined that one day she would ensure he got his comeuppance.

Goblins? Oh, Joanna had only skim read the article on the generally unpleasant beings. “It sounds like no one knew they existed!” She said, having had another skim from upside down. “Although I’m sure the next copy of the Quibbler will be full of stories on how dwarves have lived among us for centuries.” Joanna paused. The Prophet might be full of complete rubbish at times, but at least it didn’t seem to invent a new species of creature infestation with every issue. “Although, what are they going on about chicken for? What does that have to do with mining?” She sometimes wondered where journalists were picked from. Was any skill in reporting actually required or as long as a space was filled then they could do what they liked?

“I’m in it!” Joanna joked. She had two meanings to this. One, she had had to give a public statement and warning regarding criminal Fraser Cowan who was still at large. It would be great if they were able to catch him. Generally resurfacing that close to civilisation meant that he was trying to contact someone. She suspected that it was probably his family and was hopeful he would try again soon. And this time, they would be ready. Two, her anonymous letter had been published, although she had no intention of telling Amelia who ‘Jane Smith’ really was.

“Anyway,” Joanna started, pushing the paper slightly to one side. “I feel I should ask you how you’re getting on being back and all? Does it feel like you’d never left?” She definitely couldn’t imagine leaving the Ministry. Especially to then just come back after a few years. “Are you still candle making in your spare time?” Although Joanna personally found fancy candles a waste of time and money - they all burned the same - she was impressed that Amelia had succeeded in making a shop around it. Joanna would never be able to do something like that. To take that big a risk and pour your heart and soul into something that you had no idea if it would succeed? Completely out of her limitations. Starting your own business required confidence and nerves of steel, and she definitely lacked both. And a candle shop? Well to Joanna that just sounded doomed before it had even begun. 

Joanna had a fair point, there: certainly, Melissa Knox did seem to have been careful with her words. “Then,” Amelia said reluctantly, “Surely she must know that these aren’t times in which you can go ‘round saying things like that. Does she not remember that most of Britain— well,” she allowed, “Magical Britain, most of us wanted Purcell dead, four years ago?”

Amelia herself wasn’t one to advocate for capital punishment— she didn’t want Purcell dead, necessarily— but she knew plenty who did, and she rather suspected Joanna was among them. “They ought to investigate,” she said, nonchalantly. Who was it in charge of that— @Eris Rosier , maybe? Amelia had few dealings with the other woman, but she grudgingly could admit that she was good at her job. Hopefully they’d catch up to him. She finished her pie and sucked some gravy off her finger, nodding along as Joanna griped about the Death Eaters who’d made it through the war with riches intact.

“Oh, you were in it!” she said, and looked more closely at the paper as though she expected it to sprout a smiling photo of Joanna. Or, more likely, a frowning one, given her line of work— Amelia figured that her companion would only be in the paper for something related to public safety. Unless she’d dated one of the boy band boys. “Where in it?”

She was grateful, frankly, to move onto the far more innocuous discussion of her own life; politics were exhausting and frightening and she would be happy to take a little more time to process them. “Oh, Merlin, it doesn’t feel at all like it did when I left— but of course, I’m back in my old department, I’m happier at least.”

Amelia gave Joanna’s apple a pitying look as she took her own out of her bag, taking a bite of it before she answered Joanna’s next question— “Not as much, but I’ve still got loads in my back room if you want one. Not making the cute fancy ones, but I’ve still got things for the real simple sorts. If you want one in, say, a jar.” She took another bite of her apple, considering, before she asked her own question: “How are things with you? Anything new going on? I imagine all of this is a nightmare for your department—” She patted the newspaper— “criminal sightings and the like.”

Spinning the paper back round towards her, Joanna flicked forward a few pages before turning it back to Amelia and tapping her finger to an article. “It’s just a small thing,” she said, suddenly feeling like she had made it sound bigger than it was. “I was asked to give the public a statement regarding the sighting of a wanted criminal.” She would rather have been in it for a success story but it seemed the paper was not interested in publishing the Ministry’s triumphs, only mocking them for their failures. Plus, she suspected that when Fraser Cowan was eventually apprehended by her squad, it would be a higher up that dealt with the press and interviews. It was a good thing that Joanna didn’t care about publicity, only about justice. Even her name attached to a small article in the paper was more than enough for her.

She wanted to influence the public opinion, but in a much more subtle way. Anonymous writing was thus far her only option. But if she could find another way to take control, she would. Basically anything to ensure that the wizarding community developed into a better, fairer society where murderers and torturers weren’t allowed to wave around their power and influence to wiggle out of justice. But that required real change, and hard work, and too many idiots were against that. And they were allowed to print articles to that regard. Joanna understood the importance of freedom of speech, she really did, but sometimes… well, sometimes some people should just shut their mouths.

Grabbing her chocolate frog as it hopped out the packet, Joanna did not spare a glance at the famous wizard card and instead focused on slamming the frog against the table repeatedly until it was too dazed to move. She loved them - but did they need to be so animated? At least muggles didn’t have to chase after their sweets when they chose to do a runner. She broke off a webbed foot to pop into her mouth as she listened to Amelia, nodding at the end of her sentence. “I’m glad you’re happier.” Joanna commented, swallowing down the melted foot and breaking off another to replace it. Lunch did not need to be varied - chocolate was a perfectly acceptable substitute, she would eat something else later.

Shrugging in response, Joanna did not really care about candles. She would take one if offered, but her life would not be missing anything if she didn’t. When did she have time to burn candles anyway? She supposed traditional wizarding families, or rather, families who were too stuck up to enter the 21st century, burned lots of candles as they had yet to join the modern world and appreciate the convenience that were lights. Or they did and were just hypocritical about the entire thing. Either was likely. “I don’t mind,” she smiled, not willing to commit either way. She didn’t want to be rude and reject Amelia’s kind offer - after all, that would probably offend the other witch and she would never want to speak to her again. But, at the same time, she didn’t want to appear greedy and make Amelia give up some of her possessions for her. Joanna knew the correct way would have been to accept and offer to pay for the candle, but, sue her, she didn’t want to buy a candle.

Grateful for the change in topic, even if it was to her least favourite one, herself, Joanna hummed considering her response. The official stance to enquiries about the MLE caseload was ‘classified, this is an ongoing investigation’, and she used that line repeatedly, but Amelia had not just asked her about her job. She had asked about her personal life too. Her disaster of a non existent personal life. “Not much, not much.” Joanna brushed off quickly, “nothing’s new with me.” She paused, and then decided to partake in some girl talk even if part of her stomach shot up cringing at just the words ‘girl talk’. “Well… Actually I met up with an old friend a few weeks ago and he invited me for dinner next week…” she trailed off not sure what else to say on the matter. Did she tell Amelia it was a very weird situation and Joanna hated feeling this uncertainty that she couldn’t control? Or that she was entirely confused by why the dinner sounded intimate but apparently his sister would be there? And that, at points, it had almost sounded like Graeme wanted to run away with her? No, she would keep those things private - for now.

“Ah,” said Amelia, with dawning understanding. “There’s a load of ‘em running ‘round the country, then— though I don’t suppose this is a Death Eater?”

Not, she added to herself, that she saw much difference between a Death Eater and any old violently bigoted wizard; one was as dangerous as the next, Dark Mark or not, but she supposed that there was a connotation with “Death Eater.” Even thinking about it— about the Dark Mark, the one time she’d seen it over a neighbor’s house back when she was in school, gave her a shudder. She remembered too well the way people used to talk about Death Eaters, in hushed voices, as though even the mention of them was almost too dangerous to risk.

But that wasn’t the point, now; Amelia watched with a strange mix of amusement and apprehension as Joanna slammed her chocolate frog into the table to stun it; though she understood the temptation, she couldn’t help thinking that it’d be easier to just eat the thing immediately. Bite its head off and it’d stop wriggling. Jo didn’t seem too interested in a candle; Amelia didn’t mind. They weren’t for everybody— Merlin knew her brother whined often enough about the strong smell whenever he visited.

She was tempted to ask again if Joanna wanted some of her food—  Chocolate Frog wasn’t much of a main course— but after some consideration she decided against it; she’d hate for her friend to feel condescended to.

At first Joanna brushed off her questions, but after a moment she indulged— Amelia’s eyebrows shot up and she mockingly propped her chin on one hand, smiling wickedly. “A man!” she teased, “Not for work?” Joanna had always been positively glued to her position and to whatever cases she’d been working— that at least hadn’t changed since Amelia had left the Ministry— but this, this was promising. She raised her eyebrows again. “You must tell me everything, obviously.”

“No,” Joanna hastened to reassure Amelia, “not a Death Eater as far as we’re aware. Just some low life that decided to take advantage of chaos and violence to cause more harm.” Definitely not worth worrying other Ministry employees about. Joanna was not naive enough to believe that they had actually managed to capture and lock up every Death Eater but she was confident that the majority were in Azkaban, despite Minister Shacklebolt’s best efforts to release them. It was one of those unspoken things though, no one really commented on the number that possibly escaped prosecution and were just lying in wait doing Merlin-knows only what and planning their next acts of evil.

“To be honest,” she continued, “if he hadn’t run from the consequences of his actions then it wouldn’t even be worth mentioning nowadays, but he did and now he’ll have a lot more to answer for when he is captured.” Joanna went with when rather than if because she had a gut feeling that the net was tightening around Fraser Cowan. “His sister works for MLE, I can’t imagine how that feels.” The Cowans were a good family, and had been happy to assist during the investigations, but it couldn’t be easy knowing you may one day have to apprehend your own brother.

There was no way that she was going to tell Amelia everything, even if she knew what everything entailed. Although the look of shock felt slightly uncalled for. She wasn’t that obvious, and she had been to dinner before. They didn’t know each other that well that all of Joanna’s life was an open book. Sure, it had been a… while… since she had been invited for dinner, but it didn’t warrant the tone of surprise. Or was everyone at the Ministry talking about her behind her back? Poor, spinster Joanna. Destined to be alone forever? The horrible, doubting voice in her head threatening to take over, Joanna fixed her gaze on the discarded Famous Wizard card, eyes skimming the short sentence over and over.

Famous for blowing up a hamlet of Little Dropping, Hampshire whilst attempting to magically mix a birthday cake.

What a terrible thing to be remembered for!

“Emm….” she hummed, considering what to tell Amelia now that her paranoia had been slightly eased. “He actually used to be an auror, but quit before the war.” Joanna had many opinions on that, but decided not to get into them now. “He’s been out the country for the last few years but is back now. Got the Defence Against Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, you know?” She shrugged, unsure what else to say. “It was nice to catch up, I’m not sure about dinner though.” Joanna took another bite of her now-still chocolate frog, allowing the chocolate to melt in her mouth rather than say anything else. What else was there to say though? She would never give a briefing on a case with as little information as this, why would she attempt to give one on her life.

“Mmm,” said Amelia, with an exaggerated nod to show that she understood, but had her mouth full. “Mmmhmm.” She choked down the last of her pie and nodded again. “Awful, though.”

Whenever she talked about politics with Joanna she came away feeling sort of lame; she’d never considered herself particularly moderate (she was far less so than any of her family, at least) but she couldn’t deny she felt a little less radical than her companion. Not in a bad way, though. “Can’t imagine,” she echoed, though she couldn’t say who Joanna was empathising with more— with the woman in a position to have to arrest her brother, or with the brother. Both were depressing to think about.

“Ooh,” said Amelia, though she toned back her teasing tone. (Joanna, probably, wouldn’t appreciate her laying it on too thick, right now. It was the first time they’d caught up in years.) “Very impressive.”

She caught Joanna’s hesitation, after she mentioned the mystery man’s quitting; Amelia, who had also quit her job shortly before the war, elected not to bring it up. Of course, she’d quit her job in Magical Games and Sports, something with far less relevance to the war than the Aurors, but still. The Aurors, leading up to the war, had been a noble department doing good things; during the war, not so much. She thought she’d be relieved to know someone who’d quit the Aurors before they fell.

“Oh, a professor?” she said, understanding instantly. “Beckham, or something? Carina’s in his class.” Joanna didn’t seem to have much else to say on it— but certainly she’d not yet said everything, so Amelia thought for a moment or so, drafted the most important questions.

“So why aren’t you sure about dinner? Did he ask you out or not?” was first; “So… is he handsome?” was second.

(Merlin save and forgive her, of course, for gossiping— but Amelia was divorced, so she thought she had a free pass.)

She nodded, absent mindedly correcting her friend. “Becker. Graeme Becker. He wrote a book on household security.” She shrugged, directing her wand to use a cutting charm at the apple. “It’s okay, manages to explain everything quite simply.” Joanna shrugged, why was she discussing this book? Amelia hadn’t asked about it, why even bring it up? “Does Carina like him as a teacher?” She asked before biting on a slice of apple. Hmmm… it wasn’t exactly crunchy, but it would do. Joanna should know, she knew she should, but she couldn’t remember the Defence Professor from the previous year. Had they been any good? Or were they another useless substitute?

At least Graeme could cast a shield charm. At least he cared enough to teach the children how to cast a shield charm.

She hummed in response to Amelia’s next questions, willing herself not to blush. Joanna wasn’t prone to blushing but it wouldn’t do to suddenly start. If there was one thing anyone could say about Graeme it was that his boyish charm definitely translated into attractiveness. Was he traditionally handsome? Probably not, but what did that even mean anymore. Was he easy on the eyes? Definitely. But the question raised another in Joanna’s mind. Was she attractive? She certainly didn’t pay a lot of attention to her appearance. And her hair was a short mess. Had people looked at them at the Three Broomsticks and wondered what the charming, young Professor was doing with a hag of a woman?

“He’s definitely pretty.” She confirmed with a sly smile. And he was more pretty than handsome. “He’s got a certain boyish outlook on life that’s almost infectious.” Joanna certainly smiled when she was with him. “Gray likes travelling.” She said as if that would explain everything. To her it did. Joanna would love to travel, and there was a certain appeal about someone who could just take off and go wherever.

As for the first question…

She took another slice of apple, bit into it and contemplated. He had asked her. And it sounded intimate. But then his sister was going to be there. And it was going to be at her house. Honestly, it sounded like a disaster in the making. It sounded exhausting. This was why Joanna didn’t do this. Emotions. Relationships. They were so much work. And she had enough work with her actual job. She got paid to deal with the Ministry, what was her compensation for dealing with complicated relationships? Not to be crude, but she could get physical pleasure without the emotional turmoil that seemed to surround romantic entanglements. Look at Amelia. Her ex-husband had cheated on her. Who wanted to go through that?

“Yeah,” she finally said. “He asked me, and then announced his sister was also going to be there.” She shrugged, trying to appear that she didn’t care. She didn’t care. Joanna was a grown up. She was an independent woman, she didn’t need a man in her life to mess her about. “I don’t know, it was weird. He tried to tell me he’d be bad for me.” She looked around for something to stab aggressively to filter out some of the annoyance. “Like I was a child who couldn’t make their own decisions.”

How utterly dare he. Like he had any right to tell her what to do. Joanna couldn’t stand being told what to do.

“So, yeah, I don’t know.” She concluded very unhelpfully. “Who knows.” Men. Pfft. The world didn’t need them.

“How about you?” Joanna asked for some level of payback. “Anyone new? And actually decent?”

“Carina’s liked most of her teachers,” said Amelia, honestly. “Don’t know she feels particularly strongly about Becker, but it’s her last year— she’s had a few in that position.” At least he wouldn’t be as poor a teacher as the thug who’d taught in 1997, she thought to herself, though she decided that she knew better than to bring the man up in an everyday conversation.

She’d asked if he was handsome, not pretty, so she took Joanna’s answer as an “almost” and raised her eyebrows, smiling teasingly. Dating a boyish man, though, she couldn’t say she encouraged strongly. But what did Amelia know? She’d dated one man, and then married him, and he’d ended up not being right. Or, she amended to herself, she had. “Travelling is nice,” she said— she and John had travelled too, she thought, before firmly telling herself not to think about her damn ex and to focus on Joanna’s possible flame. “If you want to travel, too,” she added— “I know you’ve got a lot of responsibility at work. But, travelling together— that’s something special, truly.”

Had John taken his girlfriends on trips? He’d had two tickets to the World Cup this summer, and though he’d offered the spare to Carina first, Amelia had started wondering whether he bought things he knew their daughter would refuse. Good excuse to run away with another woman.

But that was cynical of her.

“His sister??” Amelia echoed. “Oh, okay— that doesn’t sound a lot like a date. Hate to say it.”

Joanna seemed mad about the other things that’d come out during their dinner— Amelia’s mouth twisted down as she listened. This was another situation that was woefully out of her expertise— John hadn’t ever tried to warn her off of him, though his father had, once. (Well, his father had tried to warn him off of her.)

“Bad how?” she said, trying to guess quite how offended Joanna should have been. Or, maybe, how offended Amelia would have been. “Don’t reckon he was trying to make you feel condescended to, or that. Seems like his problem, anyway— commitment or, I don’t know. He’d have his reasons, if he thought he wasn’t a good… partner.”

Too soon to say boyfriend, probably. Or anything like that. Joanna shut their conversation down with some nice, noncommittal who knows shrugging, and Amelia shrugged too. Men.

She ought to have expected it, but she was a bit surprised as her friend turned the conversation on her— “Oh, me?” she said. She grinned— “Don’t know what you mean by that, someone decent— don’t reckon I’ve known an indecent one in my life.” Then, more seriously: “No, nobody. Not looking especially hard, though.” Once burned, twice careful— that was the saying, wasn’t it?

Joanna, who had a low opinion of Amelia’s ex-husband, only managed a half grin in response. In her mind, John was definitely indecent. A cheat, who also lied about it (withholding the truth was the same as lying), and for what end? The whole situation hadn’t seemed to have benefited anyone. So really, John just couldn’t keep it in his pants. Joanna was certainly glad that she had never had the unpleasant experience of having him as a healer. She didn’t think she would be able to take any treatment he could give her seriously without a comment or two. And she was sure Amelia would not appreciate her friend getting involved like that.

Not looking especially hard.

Did Amelia think she was? Certainly, while Joanna was well aware of her age and her relationship status, she hadn’t really done that much to change it. She could have done a lot more. There was that magical matchmaking service that she could have signed up to. There was those random dates that she could have not cancelled when work was more important (actually, who was she kidding, work was always more important).

Speaking of work though…

Joanna glanced at the magical clock hanging in the canteen and winced. Time to return to the case of the anonymous packages and make sure no one else was inflicted by a deadly umbrella. “Do you want the paper?” She asked her friend, preparing to just bin it if Amelia said no.

Her lunch hadn’t really filled her but there was sweets in her desk to help get through the afternoon. Joanna stood up and vanished her rubbish off the table, already distracted by the thoughts of her agenda for the afternoon. Probably more interviews. Maybe chasing down her informant to see if they had heard anything yet. But she didn’t want to be too demanding. There was such a careful balance in dealing with criminal informants. Keep them on a close enough tracking spell that you know vaguely what they are up to, but don’t bother them too much or they will get annoyed and potentially stop helping.

But it would be nice to wrap at least one case up this week while the staff she usually had to babysit were on holiday.

Suddenly realising that she had stood with no explanation, Joanna winced at her lack of social nicety and smiled apologetically. “Sorry Amelia, I’ve got to get back to work. It was nice to chat though.” Hopefully her friend wouldn’t be offended by her exit and realise that befriending the Lead Hit Witch was more trouble than it was worth. And surely Amelia would appreciate a lunch in peace rather than hearing about Joanna’s ridiculous lack of social life, which the gobbledegook translator had summed up rather effectively ”that doesn’t sound a lot like a date”.

“I’ll see you around?” Joanna asked vaguely, hovering at the side of the table. “Have a good day!” It was likely she would run into Amelia in the canteen tomorrow as well, especially if they were taking their lunches at the same time, but Joanna was not one for promising something that she might not be able to keep.

With the generic farewell, she made her way back towards her Department where the afternoon awaited. Good or bad, only time would tell.

[/OUT]

She was worrying, now, that she’d hurt Joanna’s feelings by not believing especially hard in the sanctity of this non-date; Amelia pressed her lips together, but decided— for once— that she wasn’t going to worsen this. They were different women, she supposed— they’d have different feelings about love. Particularly at this point in Amelia’s life; sometimes she forgot how much younger Joanna was. Something about her severity and her drive, her tenacity. She wondered what Joanna’d have thought of her, near that age— back when she’d worked to pay the bills, and not because she loved it, when John had been at school again.

(Amelia knew what she’d have thought of Joanna, at least: that she was admirable, maybe enviable, and not much fun. Not for the first time she regretted being older— they’d probably have gotten on well.)

“Oh shite,” said Amelia, as Joanna cringed at the clock. “Yeah, sure.” She took the proffered paper— she had another at home, but now she wanted to read it through again, more carefully, as soon as possible. A risky move in her first month at this job, but surely an understandable one. “Thank you,” she remembered to add.

Joanna stood up and cleared away her things; Amelia followed suit, sweeping her wand to bump her dishes back into their bag. “No, no worries! I’ve got to head, too.” Not that anything she was doing was as urgent as anything of Joanna’s workload— today she wasn’t even present for negotiation, just translating documents. They hovered uncomfortably over their farewells before Joanna bit the bludger; Amelia gratefully replied, “See you ‘round, Joanna!” and headed off on her own.

Good luck, Joanna, she added in her head— as woeful as her prospects seemed, as a divorced mother, she couldn’t say she thought much of her colleague’s. Here was hoping that Joanna didn’t actually work as much as her reputation said she did— but, Amelia knew, there wasn’t much chance of that.

[out]