"Storm! Vandalier needs you, just had word." He'd been sauntering back to his desk after pouring another coffee when one of his colleagues from the legal team had called across the hustle and bustle of Thursday morning to him. Turning on the spot in the busy open office of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, he almost slopped the coffee over his fingers with the motion.

"Vandalier?" He queried, and then his face resolved the query, he'd seen Aureliane, who was one of the law specialists in the Department, heading off not so long ago. Their mutual colleague thumbed in the right direction, and another witch sat nearby added,
"She's with Bergen, I heard."

A little wrapped up in his own work that morning Johann had not caught on with the most recent news from Magical Law Enforcement, that famous Dutch architect, Maarten Bergen and his gorgeous veela wife were in the building, and in a spot of bother.

Still carrying his hot coffee, dressed in a deep blue suit and crisp white shirt, open at the neck, Johann found his way to where Aureliane Vandalier had been despatched, and knocked firmly on the door of the little room. Stepping inside, he was surprised to find she was indeed with Maarten Bergen, a loved Dutch architect with flaming red hair.

Bergen and Johann had met before in March 2009, and Johann with intern Sasha had shown the man houses at last minute notice, and later that month, Johann had visited Bergen over in his own Ministry to finalise the deal, accompanied by one of Aureliane's colleagues, Pendrick-Talonen. However Maarten didn't look his best at all that morning. It looked as if he'd had a bad night's sleep, or perhaps no sleep at all, and his finely tailored robes were not quite as crisp.

"Morning," Johann greeted them all, in English, blue eyes turning from one face to the next, curious at the scene before him. He looked to Vandalier, his coffee just below his lips, steam rising up past his features and curling into his own black curls.
"I heard you needed me, what's happened? Someone trying to sue their architect?" His sarcasm was underpinned with genuine concern, as clearly not all was well here.
"How can I help?"

Once again Aureliane was being tested. This time she was on her own and expected to swim in the deep end. Excitement flowed through Aure and she had to suppress the urge to skip. She'd been itching to be on her own. To have her own cases without a "more experienced" lawyer look over her work. Watching her. Assessing.  It was getting annoying. She remembered what it felt like being the new junior associate at her  Grandfather's, now her Papa's firm. It was the years after that she had forgotten. But law was like riding a bike. Once she stopped thinking about all the the steps and just did it she was fine. Her subconscious knew what to do. Some of the time.  The other times she just researched.

Now though, Aure had a case. Apparently someone "beloved" by the ministry had gotten into a fight and it was her job to sort it all out. Except that when Aure went in to find out the apparent abuser's story he and his very veela wife didn't speak English. Great. Aure tried to communicate with the man sitting across from her but all he did was stare and demand a translator. Not any translator. But Johann Storm. Aure had heard he was one of the best and rather sought after. She just prayed he'd have some time because apparently the man who wreaked like a muggle rubbish bin knew him.  So Aure put in the request and tried to interview the wife who did nothing but cry. So she went back into the other room and waited staring the other man down.

She nearly jumped in her seat when Storm entered. Instead, Aure sat up a little straighter and looked at the man.  She had seen him around since her return but she hadn't worked with him in person. For an instant she wondered if she had known him in what she now though of as her previous life. It was a thought that often plagued her. She ignored it and smiled at the man.

"I heard you needed me, what's happened? Someone trying to sue their architect?"

A wry smile tugged at Aure's red lips. "If only this was about architecture. It seems that Mister Bergen did not appreciate another man's designs on his wife. A mister Ravenwood is clamoring for assault with magic with the intention to cause serious bodily harm or attempted murder but he hasn't yet decided."

  "How can I help?"

"I can't seem to be able to get more than your name out of him. Language barrier," She said with a helpless shrug. "I don't speak dutch," She only spoke French and only a trace of it was in her voice. Aure had spent nearly equal time between France and England growing up. That's what happened when your parents were from two different countries and they divorced. You grew up a hybrid.

"If only this was about architecture. It seems that Mister Bergen did not appreciate another man's designs on his wife..."

Johann's eyebrows shot up as he sipped his coffee. There was him thinking this might be a run of the mill quick translation where he'd help file some paperwork and explain a format writ to a foreigner to help. Bergen was in proper trouble it seemed - and his veela wife that he'd heard about but never met was about.

"I can't seem to be able to get more than your name out of him. Language barrier, I don't speak Dutch,"

Johann nodded,
"No worries, he does speak English, but he's not the most confident, normally has someone with him. Can I speak with him a moment, you can stay, I'll explain?" With confirmation, Johann turned his attention properly to Bergen and extended his hand to shake, switching to the language his mother had taught him, her native tongue.

"Mr Bergen, good to see you again." The architect's eyes lit up dimly and he shook Johann's hand, though the tall wizard could feel the shake in his hand.
"Ms Vandalier informs me briefly you have had quite an incident, and you're here with your wife?" Bergen nodded,
"Its all a misunderstanding, I don't know why its happened." Johann nodded, gestured to the seat beside the architect and then took it putting down his coffee.
"I need to just explain what we've just said, a moment."

Looking up at Aureliane from the seat he'd just taken Johann explained,
"He's a bit confused about things, believes its a misunderstanding, let's get him something to drink, and we'll find some common language, he's not himself." Johann laid a gentle hand upon the architect's forearm which was hidden beneath a finely tailored robe sleeve, showing alliance and support, he and Maarten had got on well, and he was a shadow of that man who had so keenly chatted in broken English with Johann's young intern last year. Despite his long nose and chin, the man was quite beautiful to Johann, not that he was consciously acknowledging this thought.

Turning back to the Dutchman, he asked if he wanted anything to drink, and the man uttered that a coffee would be most appreciated, and assurance that his wife was fine.

Johann nodded, getting up again,
"A coffee, and is his wife alright?" He asked Aureliane, opening the door and leaning out to smile sweetly at the nearest underling person to bring one for Bergen. Closing it again he took a seat once more.

"Maarten, we need to find a mutual language, otherwise this could get long-winded. Ms Vandalier doesn't speak Dutch, can we try anything else?" Johann clicked his fingers and looked to the law expert, switching to English,
"You're a Beauxbaton's graduate aren't you?" As he spoke to his colleague, Bergen's head snapped up towards her, recognising the name of the school. "Or have I got that wrong?"

"No worries, he does speak English, but he's not the most confident, normally has someone with him. Can I speak with him a moment, you can stay, I'll explain?" With

Aureliane nodded as she watched. She was not going anywhere. Even if she were the type of person to just dump this mess on someone else, Aure was curious. Why was this man so important? How did the redhead know Storm?

Aure patiently observed Storm's interaction with the Dutchman. The older man seemed to settle down as he heard something familiar, as he began to understand. Then he panicked again. A jumpy thing he was. Didn't look to be the type to start any kind of confrontation.

"He's a bit confused about things, believes its a misunderstanding, let's get him something to drink, and we'll find some common language, he's not himself." p

Aureliane nodded, allowing Storm to continue to have the lead. So the Dutchman spoke more than one and a half languages. Great. If he spoke French Aure was going to sink into her chair with embarrassment  since she hadn't asked if the man spoke any other language other than English and Dutch. Rookie mistake.

"A coffee, and is his wife alright?"

"She's fine, in the next room. She isn't speaking to me either," She said dryly wondering if maybe she was the reason why. Was she too threatening? Too  bad at this? Too green? Too something.

"Maarten, we need to find a mutual language, otherwise this could get long-winded. Ms Vandalier doesn't speak Dutch, can we try anything else?" Johann clicked his fingers and looked to the law expert, switching to English,
"You're a Beauxbaton's graduate aren't you?" As he spoke to his colleague, Bergen's head snapped up towards her, recognizing the name of the school. "Or have I got that wrong?"

A light blush tinted Aure's cheeks washing out the light dusting of freckles. She'd noticed Bergen's jolt. So he spoke French.

"I did," She said in French that was slightly tinted with a British accent. It always took her a few minutes to slip back and forth between languages.

"Monsieur Bergen, I beg your pardon for the miss communication. Please, can you tell me what happened last night?"

There we go! Johann's boyish smile crossed his face with delight as he got them both talking. It wasn't her fault, Bergen was an artistic type, and he looked like he could fall to pieces that morning, it was no wonder he'd clammed up.

Then again, some in the office did make jokes about Vandalier behind her back, about memory loss… he'd not worked with her before, but he'd seen her about the office.

Bergen cleared his throat beside Johann, facing Aureliane.

"Its all a misunderstanding," He began, in French this time, and Johann sipped his coffee, eyes flicking between Bergen, Aure and the door, waiting to see when the coffee would arrive for the Dutchman's nerves.

"No trouble my dear. I don't trust my English, especially not today. My wife, she doesn't speak it at all. She is alright, isn't she? Can I see her?"

Johann looked to Vandalier, suspecting that this would not be possible given the earlier explanation of the accusation of serious bodily harm or attempted murder.

There was a knock at the door, and Johann jumped up to see to the person outside, remembering at the last moment that he'd neglected to ask if Vandalier had wanted a coffee, given he and their 'captive' were both now with one. Johann was always a little uneasy in interrogation situations, although the ticks people gave off were altogether stronger when stressed, it gave him the feeling he was on trial too, especially when he translated for the accused.

"Do you want anything?" He asked his colleague quietly, foot still propping the door open as he was handed a mug of warm coffee by the secretary who had fetched it for him.

Bergen wrapped his hands around the mug as if he was frozen and inhaled the coffee before drinking it, his hands were shaking.

"Start at the beginning Maarten, the sooner Aureliane has your account the easier it will be. I promise I'll check on your wife for you in a bit." He gave a respectful not to his learned colleague and leant away, turning his full attention to Bergen.

Half-way through the mug of coffee, thirsty, Bergen stopped, and put it down with a rattle. His nerves were shot from the night he'd spent in Magical Law Enforcement's care. They'd been rather rough.

"Last night, we took a wrong turn, poor directions." He began, pushing his red hair out of his face. "The road that goes from Diagon Alley. I would never have gone there if I knew what would happen…"

Bergen's lament was a little more poetic than his colleague wanted, Johann was sure, his eyes sliding briefly from one to the other across the table.

"That man threw himself at my wife - he handled her."

Maarten's face screwed up in disgust.

Relieved that the man was finally talking, Aure smiled reassuring at the man and leaned closer. She was curious. Part of her job was ferreting out all of the facts and seeing who had the actual claim. Who was the cause of the damage? What kind of actual claim was there? All of that came out of stories. Aure had a thing for stories, which was probably one of the reasons she found it so frustrating that she couldn't really remember six years of her life.

"No trouble my dear. I don't trust my English, especially not today. My wife, she doesn't speak it at all. She is alright, isn't she? Can I see her?"

"Madam Bergen is alright. You may see her when the matter is settled," She said gently patting his hand. A small part of her felt sympathy for this tired man. He had a rough night but Aure still wasn't sure if he was innocent. What role had he played? The knock at the door annoyed Aure, she'd been about to dive into questions. For a second she was knocked off beat and her mouth hung open like a first year seeing the sorting hat for the first time. It took a second for Storm's question to register in her brain. Hurriedly she shook her head, a few curls whipping across her face. Aure swatted them aside and returned her attention to Bergen.

"Start at the beginning Maarten, the sooner Aureliane has your account the easier it will be. I promise I'll check on your wife for you in a bit."

Again she had opened her mouth to ask a question but Storm had beaten her too it. Aure closed her mouth, folded her hands and leaned in. She was ready for the story.


"Last night, we took a wrong turn, poor directions." He began, pushing his red hair out of his face. "The road that goes from Diagon Alley. I would never have gone there if I knew what would happen…"

"That man threw himself at my wife - he handled her."

"In what way? Can you be more specific?" She asked, trying to gather the details. The way the other man had said it, he'd been minding his own, flirting with a gorgeous woman, who was enjoying his attentions, when a crazy older man had come out of no where fists flying, wand out, screaming in a weird tongue like a mad man.

Bergen looked up at Aure and took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking.

"Forgive me my dear, I'm not together." He apologised, lifting the coffee to his lips with visibly shaking hands. Beside him, Johann frowned thoughtfully at the architect's state of mind. The way he shook reminded him of being ill in St Mungo's on lack of sleep.

"We took a wrong turn, as I said." Bergen began once more. "We were trying to find the home of a newer friend, a dear wizard who has been so helpful with contacts since we began working in your country." He glanced up to Johann and then quickly diverted back to Aure and then gave a shrug as he realised that it might not be where either of them considered their birthplace.

"We'd gone perhaps twenty, thirty yards, and we saw up ahead a pub with the doors open, people spilling into the street with drink - ever so rowdy." The displeasure of the scene crossed Bergen's features. "Naturally, the men were drawn to my wife, this is not an unusual occurrence."

Johann sipped his coffee and tried not to smirk at the thought of how his colleagues apparently clamoured at the chance of being in the presence of Mrs Bergen.

"We tried to walk on, but this … this man approached my wife. He seemed quite sure of himself."

Sure of himself? Johann thought to himself, not entranced and bewitched by your veela wife? He gave Maarten the benefit of the doubt.

"Came right up to us, he was…" Maarten's face creased into a furrow and he turned to Johann with a tone of irritation, asking for advice on how to phrase things as he wanted.

"Ranting?" Johann suggested, though in French, and looked to his colleague to be sure she understood the word.

"I didn't understand what he was saying, but he seized my wife's arm without permission - I thought he was trying to rob her. I drew my wand!"

As if it needed illustrating, Bergen clasped Johann's arm as he claimed the wizard in Knockturn had to his wife. The linguist nearly spilled his coffee in surprise as being manhandled.

The architect let go, and reached to where he normally kept his wand, only obviously it wasn't there as he was in custody, and pretended to brandish it.

"I ordered him to unhand her at once! But he didn't. I did nothing wrong." The Dutchman shook his head and sat back, irritable.

Johann's gaze retreated from Bergen to Aure. Sat on Bergen's left, Aure's right, he had his left elbow propped on the table top, and gestured to her to perhaps prompt Bergen with some informative question, given she was the lawyer.

He couldn't help but feel a little surplus to requirement, only that Bergen seemed to be willing to talk in his presence, reassured by a friendly face. Well, perhaps he'd stay a while longer, until the two of them warmed suitably to each other...

End