Oscar thought that his days of working within the Wizengamot Administration Services were over with. He thought that he was a rising star and was nipping at the heels of the other more learned members of the great body within the Ministry. But when the Minister of Magic sent out her memo concerning the accounting of every department, Oz knew that this was not a task for ordinary interns or even simple folk in Administrative Services.

No, if you wanted something done right, you did it yourself.

Even if it meant that you were forced away from your new, happily married life with your bride. A life that for, by all accounts (no pun intended) had made Oz a far happier man than he had been in a very, very long time. And a happy Oz meant a happy work environment for...well, everyone. Yes, he was still an insufferable purist at heart, but how could you deny that a smile on his lips was far more pleasant than his scowl. And the personality that went with it was far more bearable.

But the Oscar Whitman that had spent much of his time hating love was now bent on hating other things. Like incompetent underlings. And memos from the high and mighty that demanded the impossible. Every. Single. Knut?

There was nothing else to do but grumble. And provide the Minister with the most thorough report and account of any department. Even if it ran him ragged.

Quill poised over pages of parchment, Oz set his mouth in a firm and determined line and his eyes started racing over numbers. Every now and then he would scratch at a few and make notations until he had reached the end and then moved along to the next. He had no plans of stopping until all was done.

Unfortunately, his assistant, who usually had better sense than to interrupt him when he was at work, entered and cleared her throat.

"Not now. Can't you see that I am working here?"

"That's a nice change."

The cheerful baritone came overtop of Whitman's assistant.  Wizengamot Elder Knox Greyfriar loomed behind her in the doorway obviously not content to wait on the procedurals of being announced and bidden entrance.

"That'll do.  Thank you, lovely day," he said by way of sending off the assistant. 

Knox didn't care for the young, spoiled Oscar Whitman.  Purist, corrupt.  But all the same, "and happy nuptials, as well."

The large old wizard came wizard came over and tucked his hair behind his silver temple.  His gaze fell upon the deep numbers work of the younger man and Knox's sympathies showed on his face.  He too had been hip deep in his own office's and committee's expenditures.  Having to go back and account for the more casual items, adjust for any tax, excavate reciepts and invoices - it was maddening.

And completely out of the blue.

Oscar’s piercing gaze moved to the door of the office to spy the Wizengamot Elder belonging to the voice and subtle jab and mildly affirmed a simple, “Oh. It’s you, Greyfriar.” Then he added, “By all means, do come in.”

He indicated to the only other chair in the office if the wizard so cared to sit. But with the work he was doing, Oz really hoped that this would not be a long visit. Time was valuable, especially when the newly married Whitman was eager to get as much done in a short period so as to return home to wife Liadan. Though he would hardly call her needy, as she was quite capable of entertaining herself whenever his work absolutely demanded he be away, Oscar could not deny how nice it felt to have someone to come home to. He so loved to make her happy and he knew that she was happiest being a perfect, doting pureblood wife. Oz inwardly lamented once again the misfortune of not having been born of a firstborn Whitman son. Lia would make an excellent Whitman Matriarch someday. That could still happen, but the two of them would have to climb over a lot of besmirched or self-destructing family members in order to achieve it. He could be patient and wait, but ideally it would all happen sooner rather than later. Hostile takeovers were still valid, right?

Greyfriar’s voice culled him out of his thoughts and he thanked the old Wizard for his marriage well wishes. Seeing Knox glance over the calculating going on, Oz wondered how his office was doing with the memo. Quirking a brow, he asked, “Managing this well yet?”

Knox took the seat, well aware that an unannouced visit was obnoxious.  It was one of Knox's vices - being large and obnoxious.  He made himself comfortable and again smiled at the younger elder.

"I have no head for numbers.  Need to go over everything thrice or risk switching a four and a seven.  Do those numbers strike you as similar? They always have for me and I can't imagine why.  But no - not going well.  Worse, it seems to have no rhyme or reason.  Honestly, what is the rush?"

The frustration was clear in his voice.  He didn't like needless paperwork and red tape, although he certainly had picked a funny profession if that was the case.

He lifted a brow at the obviously harried Oz Whitman.  "You know that your sister is it - she's been seeing my son. Did you know I had a son? He's called Devlin Matthews."

Devlin.  Bastard son of two halfbloods raised by muggles.  Living with an heiress of a pureblood line.  It was hard to say who'd be more displeased about the match, but they'd soon find out.