Nerves were a strange concept. Nerves could mean a fear of the unknown, a fearful anticipation of what could come next. Nervousness could be said to be either a positive or a negative emotion depending on the point of view of the nervous individual. One could experience nervousness through taking a test at school, attending an interview or commencing a new job. Evangeline Kuester was experiencing nervousness as her tall heel stepped from the elevator onto the purple carpet synonymous with level one. Why her nerves were so prominent, Eva was not sure. She'd even known the Minister well years ago. Time, however, changed people.

Her jacket was straightened for the fourth time since entering the ministry and her eyes darted around the corridor to find the office that would be hers as the Senior Assistant to the Minister. Now she’d been on this level several times before. She’d met with the minister briefly in her previous occupation as a lawyer for the DIMC but now she’d be working closely with the Minister for Magic and also, quite unfortunately, under her ex-husband. Still, Eva felt similar nerves that an intern may have on their first day as a welcome witch. She didn’t, however, feel overcome by the need to turn on her heel and run away like she had when the thought had crossed her mind the first day she’d returned to England last year.

Now the 41 year old witch was ready to push herself forward in her career. Fingers traced over the name on the door, her name written in shiny gold letters. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps instructions on how to pronounce it should have been added. The office itself was bare and nondescript. It would probably stay that way for some time until Eva was quite confident she wanted to remain where she was.

It took a few minutes of removing her overcloak and depositing her bag on the cloakstand before the lawyer was back in the corridor and stepping through to the door of the minister’s office. A couple of taps with her fist and she carefully pushed the door open.
“Minister?” There was a mild attempt to minimise her accent as she greeted the witch in the office. She’d presumed the minister may want to see her first thing, “I hope I’m not late.” On the contrary, Eva was early. She was always early.

Persepolis looked up as he tilted her glasses down.  As soon as she heard the distinct voice and saw the middle-aged witch, she took off the glasses entirely and rose in her chair.

"Eva! Eva Eva Eva! You're late. Ages late! How did I ever survive without you?"  The Minister of magic, clad in turquoise and black, floated across the large office across a lush rug over black marble floors.  She took Evangeline Kuester by her gold-clad shoulders and touched cheeks before pulling away.

"Don't let Holmes intimidate you.  He'll never admit it, but he's been swamped just resentful that you're saving his life.  He'll adjust. Sit!"

Persepolis was cheerful and welcoming, but it would be clear that stress was touching the edges of her.  A bit of gray hair was peeking out from under her head wrapping.  Goblins, werewolves, a mannequin inferi army, and Dementors. She was plagued by beasts at every turn.  She was hoping that soon enough, she would no longer need to put on airs with her new senior assistant.

She took a seat herself in the so-called informal seating area by a potted plant. 

"Your title is assistant, but you and Holmes really are - need to be - so much more than that. Someone of your talents is wasted on anything less than a comprehensive confidant, advisor, and bulldog. I gather you reckoned as much. This won't be light duty, love."

They had a past and Persepolis recalled it well. But she got the impression that what they both wanted was to get down to business, at least for the moment. It was going to be a busy day.

It didn’t take long for Kuester to feel daft about the nerves she’d had stepping out of the elevator onto level 2. Zephyr enthusiastically welcomed her new assistant and Eva was far more comfortable as she lowered herself into an armchair opposite her new boss. Now was her chance to really look at her. Years ago before the war they’d been friendly, never overly close, but they’d socialised and maintained a good rapport. Since Eva’s return to England over a year ago, they’d barely exchanged words apart from a formal interview for this position; any correspondence with the minister seemed to have been stonewalled by a rather unpleasant ex-husband who sat in a next-door office.

From a distance Zephyr appeared to be the same witch, perhaps a little more worn by a decade but not extraordinarily so. However, up close now, Eva’s bright eyes took in the signs of stress and hard work. Minister for Magic was not a 9 to 5 job that you could walk away from at the end of the day.

To have confirmed what Evangeline presumed her job would entail brought a small smile to her lips and she rested an elbow on the chair, now far more comfortable than she’d been when knocking on the door.
“I’ve never done anything lightly.” The foreign accent was slowly reappearing and Eva leaned forward, curious about the wizard she’d be working with. She’d seen Maurice Holmes around the ministry and he appeared to be a rather grumpy and cold fish.
“So Holmes; do I tread lightly around the cold fish, and yourself, even, or do you want brutal honesty? I am not aware of how formal level one is under your direction, Minister.” Kuester wasn’t even sure if she should call her former friend ‘Minister’. Had they met in a personal situation outside of the ministry she certainly wouldn’t have.

Persepolis was glad to see Evangeline smile. They were starting off on the same page and that was a relief.  She sighed contentedly, tension leaving her, and she sat back in her chair.

"One," she held up a finger.  "Persepolis' will do in private, Minister when with company.  Two: We can be honest without being brutal.  Holmes and I find it's not overly taxing. But I do get your meaning, and I agree - it's better if we're up front with each other whenever we can. At least between the three of us."

She laid her hand against her face and shrugged in a self-soothing gesture. "There's not enough honesty in this place and there isn't time to dance around things. Not in this office, not with you.  Let's get the kettle on."

Persepolis took a moment to stand and poke her head out the door.  Shortly, a runner would arrive with what she'd asked for. Hot tea for two and a bit of refreshment. She hadn't eaten yet today. As she sat back down.

"Oh, I should also say: I do require loyalty. Honesty isn't possible without it. In exchange for your everlasting confidence in my position, you'll have my complete protection.  You needn't answer to anyone else but myself."  She smiled. "Including Rosier."

Most of the Department Heads will probably try to bully Kuester, Persepolis was sure, her being new and carrying the title Assistant.  But Kuester had nothing to do with them and Persepolis didn't intend to allow them to compromise her little fortress on Level One.

"They'll all probably try to ply you, but you do us a favor and blow them off. Holmes is truly talented there," she laughed with a wink.

The minister was to the point immediately and Evangeline respected that. She was happy to agree to most of what the witch said with the exception of the suggestion of honesty without brutality. Very often one didn’t need to dance around an issue but if Zephyr wanted a nicer form of honesty, Eva could adhere to it, or at least try. Lawyers were good liars; Eva was definitely one of those.

"Including Rosier." The whole time Persepolis had been speaking, Eva had watched her carefully, refusing to break eye contact. But now she did. It was only momentarily, but probably for long enough to notice.  Cameron would not be happy to have her working on level one, so close. Especially if she only needed to answer to the top dog, or witch, rather.

“That’s good to know.” For the second time her lips curved into a smile until Eva reconsidered the words. “I spent a year in Azkaban, Persepolis; I can handle a few pushy ministry officials.” It wasn’t often Eva was so blasé about her stay on the island. “That’s not a problem. But Rosier needs to know who I work for.” Her tone, previously calm and respectful, suddenly held an edge. It was, however, gone as quickly as it had appeared when the tea arrived and Eva leaned forward to ‘be mother’ so to speak.

Tea was slowly poured into cups and Eva left the minister to pour her own milk and add any sugar. Having spent a decade on the continent and grown up with German parents, Eva didn’t ruin her tea with milk, instead taking it black and strong.

“Coming back from Europe to see you’d become minister, I was pleased.” Her teacup was lifted to her lips. “You have my loyalty.”

Persepolis's face was full of expression.  It always was, really, but it was less calculated every moment that passed with Eva. Her notes of sadness at Eva's unjust imprisonment in Azkaban, her mirror of Eva's foreboding towards Cameron Rosier, and then a glowing of pride - it was all genuine. Real. Transparent.

"Oh, dear Merlin, I am proud of that," she beamed.  She had to be humble but firm, powerful but not threatening. But oh, look how far she'd come. A black woman as the leader of the magical community of Britain and Ireland? It wasn't a pleasure to have been the first over so many decades of being passed over, but to have overcome what she'd overcome - it was worthy of pride. And she took a moment to show it.  And she felt like she could.  She realized no one had ever said they were 'pleased' with her achievement, not in the friendly way Eva had.

"Eva, we're going to do some important things.  We've already done, and we'll do more.  People prefer to be disatisfied, but I sleep at night. I do."

She felt good saying that too.

“…but I sleep at night. I do.”

Perhaps the Minister did sleep at night. Her new assistant didn’t. The saucer was balanced on the arm of the chair and Eva took a sip of her tea as she considered exactly what they would do together. A decade ago Kuester hadn’t even entertained the prospect of returning to England and the wizarding world, let alone working directly with the minister for magic. It was tempting to feel like she’d betrayed her old, scared self. Persepolis Zephyr, however, wasn’t out to marginalise non purebloods. She wasn’t extreme in any views and if anything, had a sore arse from spending her days sat on the fence.

“You’re not going to be liked or supported by everyone. That’s human nature.” Eva paused and smirked. “I’m not sure you’ll like me much when we get started. Or rather, when I’m being a lawyer.” Dark blonde brows rose, “Which you need”. Every minister needed legal help, the wizarding world was a minefield and Zephyr couldn’t step through it in any way that she wished.

“I presume that’s why you brought me on. I don’t make coffee or take minutes.” Or rather, Eva refused to be a tea lady or a personal assistant. This position on level one was supposed to be a step up rather than backwards. It was certainly better paid at least.

Persepolis Zephyr pursed her lips and looked amused at Eva reminding her of the obvious. Why did people think she expected to be loved and adored? She endured sexism and racism both like a lurking odor and as a foul offense for her entire life, people despising her before they even knew her.  Eva didn't think that these robes and smiles hid away a little girl who flinched at lightning, did she?

When was that ever helpful to say?

"I don't need to be liked and neither do you," she scoffed. "Don't worry. You won't need to be minding my ego all over the floor like so much dirty laundry." 

"Now's a good a time as any, I suppose, to go over the lay of the land," she said, changing postures. 

"There are interns who handle refreshments and a secretarial pool that handles minutes and archives them in the library.  We have two assigned to Level One, and there are more assigned elsewhere.  Maurice Holmes supervises lower-level staffing here.  He also keeps my schedule, does advance arrangements for trips, and ensures that all due diligence is done for any communication entering or leaving.

"Which leaves you, Eva," she grinned, "free to do what you do best. Work with Maurice to keep appraised of our schedule. If I'm not penciled in consider me available to you.

Maurice had been in the midst of a major discussion with one of the interns, no doubt bickering that they were as usual as a Wazzock[1] and perhaps they should apply themselves better before he had a chance to have them sacked. Arriving to the Minister's office a few moments later, Maurice knocked gently, remembering that formalities and introductions were going to be made today. One less for the International Magical Co-op, one more for Level One. Maurice was completely uncertain whether or not how this situation was going to play out with Ms. Kuester, but Maurice wasn't going to judge just yet how it was going to pan out. Looking at her and Persepolis as he entered, Maurice smiled respectfully, the smile faltering when from another department a notice flitted in, his fingers pinch-snatching the dark salmon note instantly. Reading it twice over, Maurice tucked it away into the leather binder, making notations shortly after about a meeting later on in the week.

"....work with Maurice to keep appraised of our schedule. If I'm not penciled in consider me available to you....."

A hopeful crook of lips seemed to reassure slightly that everything would be perhaps all right. That said, Maurice was concerned what would occur bringing Eva along for the ride. "My profuse apologies, Ms. Kuester, ma'am, for my absence.  A bit of a jostle with a fresh face from Selby, I'm afraid. What the Minister (his brain smirked as he normally would've said Persepolis) has assured you will work just fine. Notify and keep in touch; we're determined to do the best for her, aren't we?" Maurice reinforced, smiling respectfully enough. "Working together, I'm sure may have testing moments for us both, but I'm certain we will do just fine."

Touche, Holmes. Touche.

1.	Someone so dumb they can only do manual labor (from Yorkshire)

The unfortunate moustache was the first thing that Eva’s bright blue eyes settled on when the door opened to permit the marginally older wizard. It would seem to be customary for some British wizards to sport the most unusual facial hair in the name of ‘fashion’. In Holmes case the facial hair was no doubt to detract from the receding hairline atop of his head.

Persepolis continued to speak and Holmes’ smile appeared strained, not genuine or comfortable. It had been suggested that he might not be as eager as his superior to allow someone new into their little level 1 family.

Lips twitched at the address of ‘ma’am’ and Eva placed her teacup on the table, rising to her feet in anticipation of a hand shake. During the past year or so since she’d returned to the UK, Eva had seen Holmes around the ministry, bounding around the minister like an eager puppy. Or at least that was the impression she’d gained. Nevertheless, a smile twisted her pale lips and she offered a hand out to shake.

He was certain they would work together just fine.
“As long as you don’t try to step on my toes.” The German witch calmly responded, her accent beginning to return. She didn’t know his background; she didn’t know a thing about him other than what she’d seen briefly in passing. Persepolis trusted him, as she was willing to place her trust in Eva. Over the years Eva had learned not to trust anyone.

“Eva, please,” She could appear to be nice and willing. “A pleasure.”

Her attention didn’t remain on the wizard for long before she sat back down and looked at the minister.
“Shall we straight to business? I’ve done some research into the dementor situation…”

Maurice took the hand gladly, shaking it with a firm handle, reassuring that he was by no means a weakling. Then again, being cordial enough would prove perhaps a little bit to Eva that he wasn't somehow a complete monster. "Maurice, but I'm certain you already well knew this. As for the possibility of stepping on one's toes, I'll see to it that the 'dancing' with one another remains to give the Minister an excellent reputation, hm? It is a pleasure to have you on board with us, Eva." The straining smile dissolved into perhaps a simpler, more respectful one than the moments beforehand. "I'm certain we'll find common ground sooner or later, yes?"

His eyes trailed over to Persepolis, reassuring that Maurice was capable of being respectful, polite to said company. After all, first impressions were the impressions left with individuals, were they not? "Your schedule's looking well for the day, Minister. Memos to all the departments for a quarterly report have been sent out, so there's that. As for your visitor that you requested from the States, they'll be arriving here on Friday, the twenty-second. Is there anything I can get for the two of you? Coffee, tea?" Maurice responded like clockwork, eying the pair with a curious expression.

"As for lunch, where would you like me to reserve, ma'am?"

"Oh, bother..." Persepolis let a tiny whisper escaped when Maurice came about doing his duty.  He was being prickly.  She was being prickly. From her seat, she watched with a little grimace as the pair of them exchanged greetings. But she couldn't set a precedent that she cared one lick about whether they got on.  That would do no one any good.

And shortly, Maurice got on with it. Attention back to her, Persepolis managed a smile. 

"The twenty-third. Good. Hopefully the weather is fair," she said. Ferreole LeBeau would be wanting to do something out of doors. "The Headmaster of Salem Institute," she explained to Eva.  "Well, former. Maybe. Hopefully not. It's complicated."  Persepolis seemed amused. It was always complicated with Salem. And LeBeau.

She stood from her chair and went across the room to the desk.  "And we're fine for now..." she gestured to the nosh.

"For lunch...well, it's a special day, isn't it? Wherever Ira Almasy is favoring lately, yes? For three."

Ira Almasy had been an avid supporter for her bid for Minister of Magic and was the height of London's best set.  If one wanted to touch the best of London, one mimicked the best of tastes.

Well apparently the dementor case caused no bother with Zephyr and the wizard with a nasty moustache. Instead neither paid attention to Eva’s push towards actual business and chose to discuss lunch arrangements instead. Eva’s lips perhaps couldn’t have been pursed any tighter as she watched the two interact and mention the table for three. Eva could only imagine that meant her, the minister, and the moustache.

Kuester glanced between the two before stepping up to Zephyr’s desk.
“With all respect, Minister,” a pause, it was rather odd being this close to an old former friend while retaining a level of respect. “I would rather dive into work as opposed to dining out for lunch.” She forced a smile onto her face and crossed her arms over her stomach. “There is a lot to catch up on, I am sure.”

Eva pressed again for business and Persepolis nodded her head.  "As you wish, madam," she said.  She wasn't put out. She stood from her seat and went away to her large official desk, leaving behind the casual cluster of chairs and the tea.  Her desk was large and of dark wood.  It had tiers and nooks, a blue-glass shaded lamp, and claw feet below.  It was always piled with scrolls with thick heavy tassels, and files filled full of pages.  Lovely quill pens sprouted from a silver cup like fronds on some exotic and confused fern.

"Let's see what you have, then."

The Minister licked her finger to leave through a sheaf of briefs about the Dementors. There were some in the stack that seemed to be grocery lists for a dinner party - that was Department of Mysteries being cute with their document security enchantments.  There were some with nasty diagrams and medical illustrations from St. Mungo's.  And there were summaries of field reports from her advanced teams.

"Anything will help."