She's not going to appreciate you finding her at work, you know.

Aberdeen pushed the thought to the back of her mind with a roll of her eyes. She was doing it again; overthinking things. Worst case scenarios were something of a specialty of Aberdeen's, but they were doing her very few favours right now, and even fewer for the people she cared about. Her best friend's husband-- her former partner's brother-- was missing, and exactly how available had she been for them? It was the same as always. There in a professional capacity, ready to help with the practical aspects of finding Dreogan Eleor in any way she could, but emotionally, she was as distant as always. She was still having trouble coping with her own loss; how could she hope to support Akiva in hers?

When Aberdeen and her husband had been admitted to St. Mungo's with memory loss, Akiva had been there through it all, offering comfort, cheering them on, helping them to remember their son. Aberdeen needed to be a friend to Akiva like Akiva had been to her.  This line of thinking had wound through the slightly unexpected path of realising that probably the best way to figure out exactly how to do that would be to speak to Raizel Cohen. The curse-breaker had spent a lot more time with Akiva, and Adon for that matter, than Aberdeen had of late. If anyone had an idea of what kind of help the Eleors could use, it was probably her. So here Aberdeen was, waiting on the steps on Gringotts, glancing at her watch. Raizel should be out for her lunch break any minute now.

It was a bit of an unusual situation, granted. Raizel and she weren't exactly close. They only really knew each other through the Eleor family. But they had at least a passing familiarity with each other, and in Aberdeen's estimation they had got along all right in the past. Raizel seemed a decent sort; passionate about what she did, protective of the people she loved.

A noise at the entrance of the wizarding bank drew Aberdeen's attention, and as she turned she caught sight of the familiar locks of long blonde hair. There was a brief moment when Aberdeen's Occlumency fluctuated ever so slightly, then the bolts guarding her mind slid even tighter into place. But her emotions weren't so far banished that she didn't allow herself a friendly smile as she trotted over to the younger witch.

'Raizel! Glad I caught you. You got plans for lunch?'

Raizel fled into the sanctuary of her lunch hour like she always did, with barely a look back to the dark, cramped corridors and mountainous piles of paperwork that she left behind.  It didn't matter that the sky overhead was another dreary London day, nor that there was a hint of snow in the air that made her nose wrinkle; anything was better than Gringott's oppressive underground, even heavy gray skies that made her long for the sunshine back home.

She hadn't expected to hear her name, and the sound of it made her stop short.  Raizel's head turned, her fingers already closing around her wand, dark eyes flickering to take in the woman who had approached her.  Aberdeen Spencer.  She'd met her at Dreogan and Akiva's wedding, which seemed so many months and half a lifetime ago.

She knew that the witch had worked with Adon once, and now worked for Dreogan, and Raizel only knew hints of the story that surrounded her beyond that: dark magic and mental assaults and a broken family that remained broken.  Her limited knowledge of the woman's circumstances didn't make her any less wary.  Those who fell to mind magic once often remained susceptible, and that meant that even someone who seemed a friend might be more than they appeared. 

"Goleya," she murmured under her breath, and her vision shimmered.  Diagon Alley, as always, was blinding in its magical brilliance, but squinting gave no hint of additional spells or magic radiating from Spencer.  At the very least, she wasn't an enemy under Polyjuice.  Raizel relaxed, but only incrementally.

"No," she said warily, still somewhat eyeing the other woman.  She did have plans, but they were changeable, and besides, Adon would notice if he didn't hear anything at all from her by the afternoon.  That made seeing what this was about relatively lower risk, as long as she kept her wits.  "Why do you ask?"

Aberdeen's perceptiveness hadn't abandoned her when she left the Auror Corps, so if didn't take much effort to catch on to the way Raizel regarded her. And she couldn't much say she blamed her for exercising some caution. But she chose to ignore Raizel's wariness; niggling little emotions could make dents in her mental armour that she didn't like. And while she still had trouble banishing all the wretchedness that came from unwittingly killing Gawain Robards and from losing Robin, she'd had enough practice in Occlumency that she could sweep away the little clusters of feelings that would crop up from day to day.

The practice of discretion didn't leave her, though, and she closed the distance between her and the cursebreaker before quietly telling her, 'There's just something I wanted to bend your ear about.' Her eyes left Raizel's face and scanned the general area in what most would perceive to be an idle manner, but the observant would realise was a practiced sweep. What Aberdeen was saying wasn't sensitive information, but she did hate to be overheard without knowing about it. (And with good reason.)

'D'you have time to talk over lunch?' Her eyes came back to rest on Raizel, and, reminding herself that this wasn't an interrogation, let her old crooked smile fall comfortably across her lips. It didn't reach her eyes as much as it used to before she started learning Occlumency, but then, Raizel hadn't met her before that. 'Lunch'd be my treat, wherever you want to eat.'

The Cursebreaker didn't quite take a step back as Aberdeen closed the distance between them, but it was a close call.  She stood very still, her eyes alert as she regarded the witch, fingers still tensed around her wand.  For all she knew, this really was Adon's former coworker, come to talk to her about something covert -- but this could well be some sort of ruse, a trap sent in the form of a presumed friend, either to attack her or to trick her by leading her astray.

There was certainly the possibility of danger in this, but she had never been one to shy from danger.  Besides, her curiosity was growing.  She did not know Aberdeen Spencer well; Adon's former coworker had never approached her before.  If she really wanted to speak with her, then Raizel certainly wanted to find out why.

She rolled her shoulder in a careless shrug, silently debating whether it would be safer to attempt this in a Muggle (no wands, but a near certainty that no one would notice if she were enchanted) or magical (more magic, but also more paranoid patrons) environment.

"The Leaky Cauldron," she said at last.  It was within easy walking distance at the end of the Alley, which meant no apparition, and which also meant limited exposure to the freezing temperatures outside.  It was also right on the border with Muggle London, which meant that she could dart out to use her cell phone if she needed to quickly get in touch with one of her friends.  "I have a little time, if you want to talk."

Aberdeen watched Raizel for a moment after she'd answered her, then nodded. 'Sure.' She didn't wait for the other woman to lead the way; she suspected that Raizel would want to avoid turning her back on her. As she trotted down the steps, she wondered if she was being paranoid, or if Raizel was really uncomfortable around her. How still she had kept, the way she kept her hand on her wand. She could almost imagine the gears whirring in the curse-breaker's head. Maybe it was just to be expected. Aberdeen was still an unknown quantity to her. An unknown quantity with a history of being mind-controlled.

Aberdeen sighed, and stopped walking. She could push aside Raizel's concerns without any trouble, but Raizel could hardly do the same. Aberdeen remembered the first months weeks after she had been released from the Imperius Curse. Treating every passing acquaintance with uncertainty. Never sure when she could let down her guard, because once she'd let it down at the wrong time. It wasn't something she wished on anyone else, not even a little. And besides, there wasn't going to be much point into talking to Raizel about their friends if she didn't have her trust.

'Hey, um, look.' She turned back to look at Raizel. The smile was gone from her face, replaced with a more neutral, but earnest expression. 'I'm not always great with people, but I dinnae want to make you uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do to help with that?' Of course there might not be a straightforward answer, but Aberdeen hoped that if she was blunt with Raizel, maybe the other witch would return the favour. Aberdeen tended to reserve and verbal acrobatics and trip-wires for criminals. Or she had done, when she still wore a badge.

The other witch had started down the steps, and Raizel followed quickly behind; she was nothing if not eager to put distance between herself and Gringotts.  She hurried down the handful of marble stairs, her senses alert for any other sign of danger, and was so intent on her surroundings that she nearly collided with Aberdeen's back when the woman stopped short.

'Hey, um, look.'

Raizel stayed very still, even as she felt her face grow noticeably hotter.  She certainly did not want this witch or any of Adon's friends thinking that -- that she was uncomfortable, that she was scared, that she was anything other than blithely capable of sailing through this labyrinth of dangers without sparing a second thought for them.  The past month had seemed an endless trial of nerves and stamina both, exhausting and unrelenting, but it was quite one thing to admit that quietly to her friend, and another to show weakness in front of a circle that she barely knew.

"I'm not uncomfortable," she insisted, giving a fluttering wave of her hand.  "It is no problem.  If you want to talk, then we'll talk.  Come," she ordered firmly, as she started off down the street.  She still kept her hand on her wand, but she pressed it into the folds of her Gringotts robes, tucked out of sight.  "We will get lunch."

Well, it had been worth a try. Aberdeen watched after Raizel for a moment, then, 'Sure,' she repeated, and followed briskly after her. There was no point in wasting time pursuing this if she didn't want to. The worst that could happen, she reminded herself, was that she just wouldn't get anywhere talking to the blonde witch. There were others she could confer with about this situation. Adon would probably understand if she were to go to him. Or she could bite the bullet and go straight to Akiva. Just apologise for being a lousy friend and ask what she could do. But knowing Akiva, she would just be gracious, maybe even forgive Aberdeen straightaway, and even as a Gryffindor graduate, Aberdeen wasn't sure she was brave enough to handle that. Guilt was a law unto itself in the workings of the ex-auror's mind.

Walking in step with Raizel towards the Leaky Cauldron, Aberdeen quickly assessed whether she ought to try and make small talk. On the one hand, she didn't want to unnerve the woman with silence. On the other, she didn't want to make her feel like she was being grilled. Of course, playing things cool, Aberdeen realised, when everything might not necessarily be peachy keen, was no foreign habit to her. How did she always hope conversations would play out when she wasn't showing her hand?

Topics to avoid: Work. Personal life. Sensitive information about acquaintances. Something as mind-numbingly mundane as the weather. (Raizel would be at a disadvantage there anyway. Talking about the weather was really more a British past time.) Safe topics: Anything thing neutral in which both parties had at least a passing knowledge and/or interest. (In some ways it was really a wonder Aberdeen had as many friends as she did.)

'So how  was your Chanukah?' Holidays were usually a safe topic as long as you didn't probe too deeply. Aberdeen didn't have a faith, Jewish or otherwise, but she knew enough about the winter holiday to know when it was this year. And she knew there was a high probability that Raizel, being an Israeli, was probably Jewish too. 'D'you tend to celebrate it?' Best not to assume, though.

The line of the Cursebreaker's jaw tightened, and her gaze dropped to the ground.  The last night of the holiday was only a few days past, and the hanukiah was already stored for the next year, as if any hint of its passing had to be hidden out of sight.

"Yeh.  We celebrate it."  The words came out sounding curt, clipped short by the harshness of her accent.  Raizel gave a sidelong look up at the much taller witch, her mouth pressed into a firm line.  It was a perfectly innocent question, and the lanky Scottish woman was presumably not looking for any sort of answer outside the realm of small talk.  She could lie, or avoid, or change the subject, and the conversation would move on.

But --

"It was hard," she said tightly.  She did not look to meet Aberdeen's gaze; every muscle in her body felt tense and on edge. "Dreogan was not there, and it was Gabriel's first chag.  That made it not all right.  We all tried, but --"

She broke off, frustration evident for a moment as she gave an unhappy shrug.  The pretending, the not talking -- it was hard enough acting like she was a member of the Eleors' family, but going along with the masquerade that the older brother's absence was perfectly normal had felt like it was taking its toll.  She had been there, because that was what she had presumed Adon had needed, but being there was a lot.

"It will be okay," she said unhappily.  The Leaky Cauldron was not much farther up ahead, and now she only wanted to be inside it -- to order lunch, to get this whole stupid conversation over with so that they could talk about whatever Aberdeen wanted to talk about, which presumably wasn't this.  The Maccabees could not have felt so frustratingly helpless when they'd first stumbled back into the desecrated Temple.  "It will be better next time, I think."

Despite the similarity Aberdeen recognised in her and Raizel not wanting to show what they were thinking, Aberdeen was a little surprised to note that the other woman's feelings were showing through. On the one hand it made Aberdeen a little uncomfortable, as though she was invading someone's private space. On the other, it softened her heart a little. It caught her off guard, sometimes, how far the influence of one person could reach, how many would be hurt if that one person vanished. She thought she would have used to the effects of loss by now, but really, it wasn't something she could ever truly get used to.

'Better next time?' she repeated, wondering if she was catching Raizel's meaning correctly. 'I'd hope so. I mean, all being well, by next Chanukah Dreogan will be home with his family, where he belongs.' She felt something catch in her throat at the last. That sentiment; it was all too familiar. We'll have Robin home by Akiva's wedding. We'll have him home by his birthday.

We'll have him home for Christmas.

Aberdeen had to stop walking to a second to shift her mental barriers back into place. She had been slipping again, and you could never be too careful in a public place like Diagon Alley. Once she felt the familiar emptiness, the metaphorical clicking of the locks that kept her emotions shut away, she strode on as though nothing had happened. 'I can... imagine how hard it was.' Okay. She didn't have to imagine; she knew. But this wasn't about her. 'I... I want to say how well you did, how well you all did, trying to get through without him. But I know how patronising that sounds.'

They had reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron by this point, and as Aberdeen held the door open for Raizel, she gave her a small, odd sort of smile. It was somewhere in between apologetic and sad, and as such it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her eyes were where the hidden emotion showed through, just a little, if you knew to look for it. It's not fair. It never is.

By next Chanukah?  Raizel gave a huff, giving a dismissive shake of her head.  "By Sylvester," she said firmly, as if there were no reason nor room for doubt.

She didn't know why she had agreed to do this, to go talk with this witch that she barely knew.  Raizel kept her chin firmly set, her eyes determinedly forward, hugging her arms tightly against her chest as she increased the pace on the way to the Leaky Cauldron.  Aberdeen Spencer, for all of her funny Scottish way of speaking, was all too British in her manners.  She kept her emotions locked away as if it took no effort to hide them, when Raizel sometimes felt as if she were blazing so brightly that it was all she could do to keep herself in check.  The effortless masks of the people here made her feel like she was twelve years old again, vulnerable and practically naked before them.

But she did not want this instead, this display of empathy, or sympathy, or pity for what they had gone through or how things had been.  Raizel gave a rough shrug, refusing to look anywhere near the other witch.  She had not done anything; she had barely any attachment at all to Dreogan, and she had stayed merely because she felt obligated to help.

Luckily, they had finally reached the limits of the Leaky Cauldron.  It was as welcome an escape as the outside world had been after a morning spent locked away in Gringotts.  Raizel swept inside, her head held high, too abashed to make eye contact with the other woman.

"I want a drink," she proclaimed, scanning the inside of the dark and shabby pub.  The lunch hour had brought a sizable crowd to the Leaky Cauldron; luckily, there looked to be one or two empty tables spotted throughout the room.  Still refusing to look at Aberdeen, Raizel started for the one that looked the most secluded, tucked underneath an enormous stuffed moose head and a darkly-lit painting that seemed to show a fleet of storm-tossed ships fighting desperately to stay afloat.

It was only when she was seated that Raizel risked a daring look back at the other woman, the line of her jaw held tight.  Lunch now seemed like an extraordinarily bad idea, an enormous stretch of time that she did not want to spend.  She did not want to sit here and hear how awful anyone felt about what had happened; she did not want to think about it. 

"I do not have very long," she said stiffly, pressing her fingers to the table.  This rendezvous might no longer seem like some sort of ambush, but that did not mean that she wanted to be here any more than she had.  "What do you want to talk about?"

Aberdeen hovered by the table as Raizel sat down, not used to this level of uncertainty when it came to interacting with another person. For Murphy's sake, Deen. Since when do you pursue conversation with someone who clearly doesn't want to talk? Well. When that person wasn't a suspect in a Level Two case, anyway. So when Raizel asked what the Muggle Events Specialist wanted to talk about, she considered lying. Something about the galleon-to-stirling exchange rate, maybe, or something else they could breeze through quickly. Then each of them could go back to worrying about the Eleors privately. There was no real need to bother this young woman with how the friend of a friend felt about this whole situation.

The lie hung on the tip of Aberdeen's tongue for a moment, ready to spill out. But something held it back. The same thing that had driven her to get out of the office and speak to someone. That had steeled her nerve to actually ask someone for help. There was part of her that wanted to give up before she's even really tried, but there was yet another part of her that didn't. And apparently Occlumency didn't stop them from battling for supremacy.

After a few seconds' hesitation, it was the truth that got free.

'I wanted to talk about Akiva,' she said quietly, and her face sagged a little as the tension went out of it. She quickly moved her gaze away from Raizel, partly because now wasn't the time to make the other witch feel as though she was under scrutiny, but mostly because she didn't really want to look at anyone right now.

'You wanted a drink, yeah?' She looked over to the bar; busy as the Cauldron was right now, thankfully most people were sitting down and eating already. She wouldn't have a long wait to order. 'I'll go get us some. What're you having?' If she vanished for a minute or two, it would give Raizel a chance either to compose herself or to come up with an excuse to leave. Either way, Aberdeen felt she needed to put some space between the two of them, at least briefly.

This conversation could have been about any number of things.  Relations between the goblins and the Ministry, some question about Gringotts -- even the Topuluk members that they had killed in Jerusalem, since Raizel knew from Jonas and Adon that the British Ministry was looking into it.  Except when she got down to it, it could be only one.  There was really only one reason why any friend of the Eleors would seek her out now, why they would try to corner her during the only part of the day when she was guaranteed to be apart from Adon, why they would want to buy her lunch and talk.

The mention of Akiva made her flinch.  Her eyes flicked to meet Aberdeen's, but the lanky witch was already looking away.  Raizel hesitated, her expression uncertain.  Was that what this was all about?  Was Aberdeen close with Akiva, too?  She barely knew the intricate connections of the Eleors' circle on the most visible surface level; Aberdeen could have grown up a virtual sister to Akiva, for all that Raizel was aware.

Luckily -- thankfully -- Aberdeen Spencer did not seem inclined to push further into the conversation, at least not yet.  'I'll go get us some. What're you having?'

Raizel huffed out a quick breath, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.  It was rare that she was thankful for the roundabout approach to British manners, but in this instance, she was grateful for the reprieve.  "Something that is not bad," she said carelessly, sitting a little straighter in her chair.  "You can pick."

She folded her hands on the table, lacing her fingers together as she uncertainly watched the other woman depart.  It was not really her place to be here.  Whatever Aberdeen Spencer wanted to ask her, she couldn't speak for Akiva.  Raizel had forced herself into the former librarian's life because it had been necessary: Akiva had been helpless, and her close association with the Eleors meant that she would be drawn into trouble before too long.  But that didn't make her part of this.  Aberdeen Spencer was far more a part of this circle than she was, with her cool British manners that fit in so well.  She and Akiva and Dreogan probably spent hours being amiably polite to each other over steaming cups of black tea.

It would be so easy to just leave.  Raizel's gaze flicked to the door.  She could make up some excuse about something urgent back at Gringotts, or some errand that she'd forgotten about on her way to lunch.  Aberdeen was probably too politely British to question it.  She could leave, and she wouldn't have to be a part of this conversation at all.

But Aberdeen wanted to talk about Akiva.  Raizel bit her lip, brows knitting as she thought.  Quietly, slowly -- and yet deliberately -- she settled down in her chair to wait for the witch to return.

At least when Aberdeen did return to the table, she came with drinks.  Raizel reached for hers like it was the oasis in the middle of a scorching desert, some sort of preventive measure to ward off the worst of whatever was about to occur.  "Nothing is very good here," she confessed breezily, as she raised it to take a drink.  Downing half of a pint up front would not make her any more eager to talk, but at least it would make the act of doing so feel less starkly vivid.  "I don't know how you drink it all the time."

The flicker of a grin passed over Aberdeen's face. 'Well, I don't drink. That's how I get around it.' This hadn't always been the case of course. And as the winter days stretched closer to Christmas, the ex-auror found herself missing alcohol more and more. She had been so tempted to order herself a beer has she had done for Raizel, but she told herself it wasn't worth the risk. 'Except for butterbeer. But that doesn't count.' She waggled her own bottle a little, then took a swig as she sat herself down across from the shorter witch. Butterbeer was really more of a children's drink, popular with the Hogwarts crowd on trips to Hogsmeade, but Aberdeen liked how the frothy beverage warmed her up from the inside.

Aberdeen didn't presume to take off her cloak once seated; Raizel had already explained that she couldn't stay long. But that she was still here was heartening. She offered no excuse to hurry back to work, and wore body language that suggested she intended to stay at least a little while.

'I know it probably seems a bit odd, seeking you out like this,' she said, twirling the bottle of kiddie-alcohol idly between her hands. It gave her something to look at other than Raizel. 'Weird thing is, when I thought about who to talk to, the best person turns out to be you. I can't go to Adon, he's got enough on his plate worrying about his brother. And I suppose there's Trevelyan, but t'be honest he and I only really relate professionally.' Aberdeen set her beer down and waved a hand as if to clear the air of her ramblings. 'Anyway. What I'm trying to get at is, I know we barely know each other. So, just-- just feel free to tell me to bugger off at any point, yeah?'

She glanced back up at her drinking companion, chancing the hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth, as if this might translate to there being no hard feelings if Raizel wanted out of this conversation.

Beer tasted better the more that one drank of it.  Experience had gleaned that bit of knowledge, and so Raizel took to hers quickly, taking as long a swallow as she could manage before setting the glass back down on the table.  Swallowing, she rubbed at her mouth, and then tried to focus on what the witch was saying.

Talking to Adon was probably a bad idea.  Yes, Raizel agreed with that somewhat.  Aberdeen was wrong -- Adon was worrying about everyone, not just his brother, and he liked to know that people cared, but he wouldn't give the most objective answers right now.  Jonas Trevelyan, too, had a lot on his shoulders right now.  If that left Raizel as the only one to talk to, she felt a bit startled that that might be the case.

Aberdeen seemed intent on caching this conversation though -- giving her a chance to leave politely if she wanted to take it.  Raizel snorted and didn't move.  She wasn't telling Aberdeen to bugger off; whatever questions the witch had to ask, the mage had already decided to stay.  The chance that this could be some kind of disguised threat already seemed only a distant possibility.  If Gözde or some other enemy had decided to trap her, she doubted that Akiva would be the one that they'd ask about.

She rolled her shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, her gaze set on Aberdeen now.  She wasn't entirely sure what the witch wanted -- was she seeking permission?

"If you want to talk, then you can talk," she said steadily, though there was the faintest hint of challenge to it.  She fluttered a hand in the air, as if dismissing any thought that the conversation was out of the ordinary.  "I will tell you if I want you to leave."

Aberdeen raised her eyebrows the faintest bit, and realised that she was still trying to decide what to make of Raizel Cohen. Some people she could peg quickly, others required more consideration. Cohen didn't seem keen to place all her cards on the table, but there was something straightforward about her manner. Contrasting qualities, but both traits that Aberdeen could appreciate. To Raizel's reply, she gave a small nod and a 'Cheers.'

She took another swig of her butterbeer as though this might some how provide an adequate substitute for Dutch courage. Of course it didn't. So she just plunged in. 'So here's the thing. I'm worried about Akiva. I mean, we've been mates since school, we kept in touch during the war, she's always had my back. All that jazz. And now her husband's missing and I...' With her right hand, the one that wasn't curled around the bottle, she waved as if trying to grasp for the exact wording of the current situation.

'I don't know what to do for her. Hell. Crappy friend that I am, I don't even know how's she's doing.' Aberdeen brought her free hand to her temple and rubbed at it with something of an air of resignation. Her emotions were getting loose again, she could tell. It was always such an effort to keep them locked away for long periods of time. Oh well. She was alert. She could reinstate the mental barriers within a second if she fell under attack. 'How is Akiva doing? You've been spending some time with her recently, yeah?' The look she gave to Raizel through her unkempt blonde fringe carried with it an unspoken please.