ten o'clock pm

---

It seemed that Rufus[2] was keen on playing Muggle Irish Rock this evening. Maurice couldn't help but chuckle; Valentine's Day was tomorrow and what better way to make those in single or broken up relationships (or even bad ones, the man supposed) be reminded of their agonies? Coddling the glass of Ogden's and swirling the contents, the wizard downed the alcohol like it were water, tapping the counter for another shot. Rafe[3] was on the night shift this weekend so that meant their Valentine's celebrations wouldn't be occurring until probably the following weekend and by then, maybe they'd have a moment to spare for cooking for one another.

However, that was designed for next weekend. Tonight, he was a lone wolf without a member of his pack.

He didn't go for the next shot that was waiting for him as his fingers massaged into his eyeballs, rubbing the tired out of them. So much going on in the Ministry and outside the Minstry and running errands to and fro for Persepolis were becoming slowly exhausting. Maybe taking a holiday like Gabrielle would work, eh? Maurice chuckled momentarily at his crude mockery of his fellow Ministry worker. Shame on him. Raising the glass once more, the man drank his contents, unaware that he would be joined by a "friend" of the past as the door to the pub opened.

And Trouble walked in.

1.	Us of Lesser Gods - Flogging Molly
2.	the owner, if you didn't know already ^^
3.	Rafferty, his super secret boyfriend!

Lawrence had to remind himself as he saw faces, that it had been ten long years since he'd clapped eyes on them, which was why they all looked older, and had less hair.

There was little to do in life other than drink or repay his niece[1] for her hospitality in her ragged flat by practicing his magic on repairing things. Colours were returning to wallpaper in stretches, but the carpet he was sure was not salvageable.

DIY had become less interesting, even if it helped him adjust to using his right hand to cast in absence of a left hand, which had used all his life until then.

Still looking as rough as ever in second hand clothes, though he'd tied his wild hair into a rough ponytail to keep it out of his eyes, Lawrence was drifting down Diagon Alley with what little money he had afforded himself.

Another pub. If it turned out to be a place where two wizards canoodled, he was out of there.

Clapping eyes on Maurice Holmes, he almost about turned and headed out the door before checking the rest of the clients, based on that same assumption.

But where Admete Brown had been promoted to head of MLE, the pathetic attempt at being an auror, was now the new Minister's right hand man. Interesting.

"Maurice!" Lawrence greeted forcefully, throwing his left arm, sans hand, around the other man's shoulders, taking advantage of the sight the end of his arm was.

He pulled his arm away in the nick of time and landed on the stool beside the younger man, facing out into the pub.

"Congratulations on the new job." He added with a smile that did not look welcoming, "Minister's arse wipe, isn't it? Perfect for you."

1.	Hannah Bombay

Maurice Holmes did not enjoy to be coddled or touched by those he did not feel accustomed to.

Therefore, when Lawrence Musgrave put that stump of an arm around him, there were jinxes at the tip of his tongue to attack the other with. Maurice didn't recognise it as him until his head tilted to confirm that this was indeed that man he recalled vaguely from his piss poor attempt of becoming an Auror. Fantastic. Talk about your luck, eh? What luck are you even thinking about, Maurice. This man is an Azzie and more importantly, an Azzie that you really didn't give a damn about. Play nice, though.

It'll please Mummy.

"Her arse wipe, Larry? How classic of you. Did you write that on the walls or did you come up with it in the loo before coming here?" he spoke back, slick and slippery as ever. "You've seen better days, I'm sure. Even dogs don't have bad days like you have. Tell me... were you intending in making a scene tonight or is this the new improved you?"

A pause as Maurice placed his glass back down, watching the other with more than a hawk eye's glance.

"Bartender. A drink for my dearest friend, Larry." A nasty grin crept to his lips. "It's on me."

"Her arse wipe, Larry? How classic of you. Did you write that on the walls or did you come up with it in the loo before coming here?"

"Nope!" Musgrave exclaimed, sure of himself, "Saw you and it sprang to mind. Must be the way you dress."

"You've seen better days, I'm sure. Even dogs don't have bad days like you have. Tell me... were you intending in making a scene tonight or is this the new improved you?"

Lawrence laid his left stump over his heart.
"Holmes, I'm hurt, did you not read the Prophet on the day of my release? No, I'm simply congratulating a brief attempt at being an auror on his newest promotion." The smile returned, equally as unreassuring as before.

When the drink arrived, Lawrence scooped it in his right hand and toasted Maurice.
"To Ministerial lapdogs."

The spirit burned his throat with that familiar satisfaction that he had dreamed about for a decade and he let out an appreciative sigh.

"So Maurice, how did you end up Zephyr's backside, and is it treating you well?" He asked, turning round to face the bar and peering down his long nose at his former colleague.

"To Ministerial lapdogs."

He took the shot alongside Lawrence, watching him closely, not entirely trusting that the ex-Azzie could be trusted.

That feeling, well, those feelings had to be kept below because starting a brawl here in Rover's was beyond a bad idea, especially that he'd end up answering to Persepolis and no doubt the pointy quills of the Prophet. And Mummy would be displeased. Brother and Father too. Round Two - Larry, 2 and himself 1. Damn.

"I received the promotion with dignity and hard earned work, Lawrence, contrary to what popularised notions you have running in tha'..... (he paused, cringing at the slip of true accent opposed to the proper and refined tone he kept constantly) that  cranium of yours. I'm a capable body in the Minister's department more so than what ever I would have made for myself as an Auror. I still see action enough but with less of the taunting and bullying of what the Aurors gave me."

The last bit was spoken perhaps a bit harshly, but Maurice truly wasn't ever destined to be an Auror; the training alone proved he could be cunning,  that he could use concealments, disguises, even stealth and tracking without having to give up three years of his life. It didn't mean, though, Maurice disrespected the Aurors and their efforts - in fact, he applauded and lauded a few of them for it. He returned to his companion of trouble and eyed him once more. "Well. Has the release been treating you well?"

"What do you think?" Lawrence retorted scathingly in return to the general question about his life since his release.

"Thirteen days, Holmes. There's a lot a man can do in thirteen days when he's had eleven years to plan it. Even with one hand." He peered at the other man from beneath a shock of rough, black curls which had become slightly streaked with grey for his imprisonment.

"Tell me about our new Minister, since you've got a great view up her backside now, Maurice. What is she like, what are her beliefs?" He narrowed his eyes, "The war, about Azkaban, about the horrors that I am considered personification of?" He was genuinely interested in the other man's opinion, especially in what hints or weaknesses Holmes might reveal in the way he explained. 

His skin prickled in hot tomes, indicating that in fact, Maurice Holmes, was very bothered by listening to the defaming (of sorts) about the Minister. He had never bit his tongue as hard as it was currently and never in his life (well, with a few exceptional moments here and there) wanted to punch someone in the face. It'd feel damn good, but then again, any and all reactions Maurice would participate in would lead into destruction through the Prophet and the Ministry herself. Damnit.

"Thirteen days, Holmes. There's a lot a man can do in thirteen days when he's had eleven years to plan it. Even with one hand."

"Is that a threat I'm detecting from you, Musgrave? Last I checked, it's a grievance and offence that could very well get you a one-way ticket to the Wizengamot and perhaps back to Az. Now. You wouldn't want that, now would you?" Maurice plainly spoke albeit noticeable that it had been stated rather icily, darkly even. Maurice looked to Lawrence, stern and forboding before it changed in an instant, dissolving away to that wretched smirk of his that indicated he was up to no good.

But when was he ever, really?

"She has many beliefs, Lawrence. Redemption is a possibility and well, backstabbers are quite frown upon. However, I imagine if you were to plead your case and prove that you didn't mean to cause the commotion you had, then I suppose she would show you clemency. You'd love that, aye? To be forgiven and become the prodigal son all over?"

"Ah don't be such a precious princess." Lawrence retorted, shaking his greasy black curls.

At Maurice's words he smiled to himself, his expression unfriendly even so.
"I doubt I'll ever be forgiven," He admitted, "society holds on dear to its war stories and the anger the Dark Lord left in his wake still rumbles deep within families. There are plenty in society who would rather see me locked away for the rest of my years on that alone."

He raised and lowered his shoulders with a deep sigh and composed his face, looking to Maurice.
"No, despite my years of repentance, good behaviour and my reform on release, I doubt I shall ever be forgiven for my involvement during the occupation." Lawrence shook his head. "Worse still, there are others in the Ministry who occupied far worse roles during that time, still 'serving' your Minister."

Precious princess, really, Lawrence? Who taught you that? An alliteration Azzie? Oooh, ouch.

Maurice outwardly shook his head, quite unamused by the thoughts that just floated on by within that brain of his. Hardly befitting of someone who clearly had much more cool intellect and self respect than that. Raising the glass to his lips, the essentially Scotsman drowned it to blot out the ignorance that wished to continue on prattling around inside. "Forgiveness is obtained and couldn't agree more sadly, Musgrave. However, there'll a small part of my own heart that'll make sure it bleeds for you." Whether that was literal, sarcasm or perhaps both considering the source, Maurice Holmes wasn't one for revealing. At least not at this time was he willing to reveal.

Revelations, however, from Mr. Musgrave himself, proved to be interesting albeit obvious. Some within the Ministry hid their deep, darkest secrets and Maurice truly wouldn't be surprised if there were rodents still masquerading as saints within departments. "Surely though you don't mean me, Lawrence. Last I checked, my record remains impeccably clean, aside from my failures within the attempts of becoming a man in scarlet robes, blasting down doors and tossing the ne'er good wells in Az..."

"Well," Lawrence rolled his shoulders, "many would have said the same of me, only shining example of an auror, good laugh, mentor and stalwart for remaining during the occupation. My bloodline was my downfall - I was kept there, no escape to be questioned, no reason to flee into hiding and excuse me for non participation like others."

He splayed his hands out onto the top of the bar and shook his head.

"No, those who remain are cowards. They vanished in the darkest hours and left the rest of us to do whatever we thought was right in the situation to survive and undermine the Dark Lord's regime. They ran away, hid, and hoped it would all blow over. Now they serve again, and pretend they are war heroes. Sickens me."

"Dear me, Lawrence. You sound absolutely discontented and well, it's going to ruin this perfectly good time spent, dearest."

An impish smirk crept upwards, curling his lips to indicate trouble. "I truly believe not all of us are cowards, Larry. Some of us are willing to advance while others would rather sit comfortably in the places where they feel assured. As for you, you are neither, darling boy. You're more on the lines of the one who wants to test out the structure for its weaknesses. I assure that I'm solid as mortar upon the brick, dear. So, please, don't take it offence, but I am not unraveled by your tactics."

The smirk was now full blown out naughty grin. Larry - 2, Maurice - 2. Sweet, blissful revenge.

"Just taken a few decades then?" Lawrence drawled back, referring to the way Holmes had abandoned being an auror, and citing it being mainly because he wasn't up to the job. "Well, glad to hear you've grown a backbone, though they're pretty rare on the first floor, aren't they?" He sniffed and wrinkled his nose.

"What does the British Ministry tremble in its boots about these days if it is the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord?" He asked Maurice, genuinely interested. "What is the greatest threat today to our wizarding ways? What keeps the Aurors out of their scruffy office, and you scribbling minutes?"

Maurice was becoming much more than increasingly bored by the stabbing at his integrity and stances within the confines of his Ministry position. Eyes rolled briefly, yet he tapped the counter for another round. Boyfriend mine, do forgive me, dear; Lawrence is causing heartache and the drink... "I have a spine, Lawrence, so stop with the toying with your bit o'fodder given to chew on. I'm not a coward no longer nor traitor or intend to be one. As for being the secretary, it's a pleasure I'm certain a daintier individual would have a head spinning and beyond exhausted feet with as much our Minister makes known. That said, cease your witch hunt. What's done is done."

Raising his new round, he grumbled a 'Slainte' before taking a slip down. Watch. Your. Anger. Exhaling slowly, Maurice watched Lawrence stalkingly, knowingly. This was becoming increasingly annoying and for that, Maurice knew Lawrence was winning.

It was funny to see Holmes get himself all het up about the questions and his presence after so many years of being locked up in Azkaban safely from the rest of the population.

"Oh Maudred," Lawrence drawled, enjoying the ribbing he was delivering, "don't get yourself in such a twist, I'm merely asking what the wizarding world considers to be its greatest preoccupation now the Dark Lord is not charting at number one? I simply assumed that in the lofty position you now hold within the Ministry, you would have somewhat an overview of the threats that face our kind today, and could bring another wizard, perhaps one who has been confined at sea up to speed the matters of your expertise."

He delivered the line with mock politeness, smoothly slipping from one word to the next, gesturing with one hand the stump as if to honour the other man.

Sighing and rubbing his temples once again while wishing he were very much at home with Rafe by now, Maurice glanced at the wolf sat by his side. Oh, how clever this wolf was - to don an air of concern, of curiousity towards the Ministry and his Minister, of to know what was occurring in the wizarding world. As if it had changed as much as Lawrence wished to point out. Another sigh escaped him and soon was putting a hand upon the other.

"You and I know that Britain and her societies haven't changed much, darling boy. True, the Dark Lord was the fear factor without a doubt, but the worries of today are, as I've mentioned before, not a concern to worry that poor little head over. That said, might I interest you in any meal here at Rover's? The mushroom shepherd's pie is rich and the porterhouse at medium is excellent. You look ravished in more than just talk, old boy."