Title taken from Count on Me by Bruno Mars.

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There was precious little better than curling up on a couch in the sunniest room of the house on a Sunday morning with a good book.  Primrose got up early, as usual, and made her way about her morning: getting dressed, feeding herself and Honey, making tea… and then transporting herself to the eastward facing portion of the house for a morning read. 

Of course, nothing in her life was fully for pleasure: Primrose was reviewing some of the case law that would bolster her argument for the revised safe house legislation she wanted to get through. 

Honestly, it was beyond her how anyone could disagree: it just seemed so… ridiculous to think it wouldn’t benefit everyone – lycans included – to set up more protection around a time that was dangerous to everyone involved.  Comfort should always come second to safety.  Biting on the tip of her quill, she etched a note in the margin and flipped the page back to another note sticking out, wanting to make sure she’d marked the proper page. 

Shifting on the couch so she could fold her legs under herself, she heard Honey whine and looked – ah, she’d moved the poodle’s pillow: her calves.  “Sorry, darling,” Prim soothed as she reached over to scratch behind the dog’s ear.  Honey seemed placated by the gesture and put her head down with a heavy puff.  Prim smiled fondly before turning her attention back to her book, “Shoot!” she muttered – as close to a curse as Prim ever uttered, as she realized she left a blot on the page. 

She hadn’t moved the quill.  Wrinkling her nose, she added the page number and flipped a few more pages, checking the extent of the damage.  Judging by the book, Prim made the wise choice to put her quill back in the well and pause: a sip of tea would do her well and allow the pages to dry. 

Maree padded her way from the kitchen, tea in hand, wearing her furry blanket around her shoulders like some kind of stole.  There her sister was, bathed in early morning light, head bent, like the subject of some sort of painting.

"Morning," she said, sotto vocce, sitting on the couch beside her and tucking her feet under her.  She smoothed the hem of her nightgown.  She tilted her head to glimpse at the book, flipping the cover closed slightly to read the title.  "Riveting reading for the weekend."  Her smile was fond and she reached down to pat the top of Honey's head.  "Can I ask you a question? You're Alberic Grimm's friend, right?"  She frowned slightly. "I don't mean to sound... I mean, I truly want to know this... How does that work?"

Maree’s barely audible voice broke Prim’s concentration on her teacup and she glanced up to see her sister still decked out in her pajamas with a big blanket wrapped about her shoulders.  Prim was a stark contrast, dressed and ready for the day before everyone in the house had even climbed out of bed.  “Morning,” she returned before scooting to make room on the couch. 

Raising her eyebrows as Maree glanced at her book, Prim laughed.  “No rest for the wicked,” she teased, scrunching her nose.  “I can’t lose to Wallis again,” she explained – one of the chief progressives of the legislature was gaining quite the following and he’d trounced Prim before.  She didn’t want that to happen again.  It meant more work, but she would be successful, no matter what. 

But the question turned from work quickly and Maree asked the strangest question.  “ALberic?” she parroted, just to make sure she understood properly, “I mean, I suppose.  Though, I’ve always considered him more a mentor figure than a friend per se.”  She pursed her lips and paused thoughtfully, “He has good advice to give and as you’re probably aware, we are both stunningly popular at parties.”  Prim snorted. 

“What brought this about?” Prim shifted so her back was pressed against the armrest of the couch, “I never thought you’d be interested in the friendship of Mr. Grimm.  Is Mum finally getting to you?”

"Getting to me?" Maree echoed, eyes wide. "Oh, no no no.  Her focus is still squarely on you, Primmie." Her smile was now mischievous.  Her lashes fluttered. "She's very pleased how you and Ceph hit it off at the holiday party, though.  That should pacify her for a little, I'd think."  A light pause.  "You did seem popular enough at the last party. Probably even more so if Mister Grimm had been there."

A longer, calculated pause.  Meant to break her older sister's will and resistance and confess all.

It didn't happen.  Brightly, she chirped, "And how did it go with Cepheus Gamp? I didn't get the recap." Her voice took on a dry note. Prim would hate her. Lovingly.  It was fun to be wicked sometimes. "It must have entirely slipped your mind.  Have you been distracted, perhaps? Daydreaming? Hm?" 

Honey responded instinctively to the sing-song prodding, licking chops and giving a little whine as he looked up at Amaryllis expectantly.  Maree leaned over to kiss the top of her head fluffy head. Honey resettled, basking in the momentary attention and savoring the ear scratch the new couch-guest was bestowing upon her.

“We must find her a better hobby,” Prim replied with a heavy sigh.  Maree was a saint of a witch, but she definitely took far too much pleasure in the fact that their parents wanted Prim to get married and settle down as soon as humanly possible.  For a woman who had made a career of oblivating and becoming respected in her field, their mother certainly did have a preoccupation with Primrose becoming conventional. 

There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with it, but Primrose didn’t want to give up the things she loved – even work -  for marriage.  “And you too, apparently,” she assessed.  It could have come out harsher if she wasn’t talking to Maree, but at this point, she couldn’t help but have a warm smile at her sister.  “Please don’t join her in trying to marry me off.”  She looked at her pleadingly. 

She couldn’t take everyone in the family in on it.  Hattie had already begun and if she had to like Marigold best they were going to have a problem.  “Besides,” she cleared her throat, “Cepheus is not… well…” she wrinkled her nose, “she didn’t necessarily know if her sister was aware of Cepheus’ tastes and if she wasn’t, she didn’t want to bring it up – that was for him to do.  “I think he is just as interested in finding me a suitor as any of you.”  Probably true. 

Shrugging, Primrose didn’t want to linger on this topic.  Besides, hadn’t Maree come in here looking to talk about Alberic Grimm?  Wrinkling her nose, she shifted on the couch and watched Maree scratch Honey’s ears for a moment.  “You look tired,” she Prim noted, “is everything alright?” 

“I think he is just as interested in finding me a suitor as any of you.

"Mhmmm," Maree cooed as she blew on her cup to cool it down a little. "I bet he is." Prim was getting flustered and bothered and Prim was not the sort to get flustered and bothered over men.  She'd drop it for now. For Prim.  Besides, her sister seemed eager to get back to the topic of...

Oh. She'd totally forgot. Alberic Grimm.

He was a nice thing to forget, really.  That was probably unkind to feel, but Alberic Grimm was just...probably evil.

"Oh. Mentorship does make a bit more sense.  Prim, is he... I mean, you can tell me straight. Is he a necromancer, then?  I mean, what does a necronomist even do? We didn't learn about them at all in school..."

Prim adored her first sister, truly.  She was a princess amongst women, the kindest soul Prim had ever had the fortune to meet, and endlessly gracious with other people.  Unfortunately, along with all of wonderful things there were to wax on about for hours on end, she did have one peculiar flaw:  the inability to see the most obvious things! 

Maybe it was because Primrose had been shoved together with Cepheus Gamp for years, or maybe that it was she was more observant than her kind-hearted sister, but Maree really had no idea what she was talking about.  It was for the best that the subject was dropped.  Prim did not make a habit of putting everyone’s personal life on display, and if Maree couldn’t see that Cepheus and she were more alike in their tastes than not. 

Clearing her throat, Prim tilted her head to listen to her sister’s question about Alberic and his profession.  Where had this sudden curiosity come from?  And what about necromancy?  Prim’s eyebrows drew in and she breathed deeply for a moment, considering.

“I don’t know about necromancy,” Prim began, “but from what I know, Alberic helps with hauntings: removing ghosts, poltergeists, possessions…” she waved her hand lazily, “you know, that sort of thing.  Did you run into him at work?  Haunting gone wrong in the muggle world?” 

"Ah, no... not exactly," Amaryllis said, looking down.  The rough strands of her ponytail tickled the back of her neck as she examined her drink.  "A part of I.D.R.E.A.D., actually.  You know the attack on the Three Broomsticks?" She ventured a look up at her astute sister, sure that her ultimate message was already apparent on her face.

"Well, Mister Grimm was there.  He was there first; I didn't see what he did when he first arrived, but he got most of the people out of the Broomsticks--they owe him their lives; I saw it myself.  Still..."  she bit her lip.  "Prim, I saw him lock hands with a Dementor." She shivered at the thought of touching one of those things.   "At first I thought they were in sort of grapple, or Mister Grimm needed help, so I rushed over, but... oh, Primmie..."

How to say this.

"The look on his face when I came to help; he scared me.  What if..." another lip bite.  She fiddled with a loose strand of hair, "Do you suppose it could be possible that he could control a Dementor?  I mean, what if he caused the attack in the first place?" She searched her sister's face.  "I didn't--I didn't mean to say anything too leading to the Aurors. I just wanted them to look into it, but I think it's possible that what I said might have..."

Uncomfortably, Maree shifted to press her back against the cushions of the couch. "What if I did the wrong thing?" A miserable expression crossed her face--instantly pressed down with a look of determination.  "I just want to do the right thing, but this I.D.R.E.A.D. business is a lot harder than I thought it would be.  I mean, I haven't even had to Obliviate a single person, and then there's all... this..."

Prim listened silently, jaw set as her sister recounted the events at the Broomsticks.  Her fingers stilled over the cover of her book as she concentrated.  Alberic was a cryptic man, scarcely saying a word he thought unnecessary.  Often their conversations were heavily one-sided with Primrose doing a majority of talking in between monosyllabic replies.  There was nothing frivolous about the man.  There was also nothing obvious about him either, except shrewd good sense. 

That made it difficult for Prim to reason out why he would seem to seek contact with a dementor: entirely the opposite of good sense.  "I don't suppose that's possible," Prim finally managed with furrowed brows, still somewhat lost in thought, "controlling a dementor, I mean."  The possibility was a chilling one.  Stranger, darker magic than Prim could even imagine existing would be required for the task. 

But then again, she was aware there was more to Alberic Grimm than he ever revealed to anyone.  There were more untold secrets in his dimly lit, uncomfortable office than she imagined were in the whole of Hogwarts at this point.  Primrose decided to keep these observations to herself: looking at her sister she did not wish to add to her troubles. She also did not wish to invoke any anger Alberic might possess were what she was saying was true.

The man was stoic, but often as her mother had pointed out to her, hot tempers ran cold quickly (a saying attributed to many of her disagreements with Marigold).  She imagined, by this logic, Alberic  Grimm would not cool quickly.  "You did the right thing, Maree," Prim assured her, finally.  "Like you said, you don't want to lead them into anything and I'm sure they'll be talking to him anyhow, given he was at the scene."

It was the most diplomatic advice she could give.  Were it someone else she might have tried to scare them into staying away from the situation, but this was her sister and the dismay clearly written on her features was more than enough.   Prim was glad for her caution, her fear of the darkness she had potentially seen.  It made her less likely to meddle in it or get caught up.  She could stay as she was: sweet and free from viewing the world with cynicism or distaste.  "Everyone playing their part in I.D.R.E.A.D. is doing so," she added, "worry about yours and yours alone.  The job will get done quicker that way," Prim reached out to grab her sister's hand and give it a tight squeeze. 

Her own work aside, Prim shifted - Honey jumped off the chair with a soft thud of her paws and trotted off at the movement.  The sound of her nails clicking over wood floor faded as she went.  "I don't like to see you so distressed." 

Dementors couldn't be controlled?

"Oh, but then," Maree burst in, "how could they have manned Azkaban like they did?  I mean, they worked for the Ministry at some point."  She was glad those days were not a part of her own history at the Ministry.  Imagine Dementors for co-workers! 

Even if she thought that Prim hadn't fully considered this fact, might not have a full enough picture--maybe she simply hadn't had any interactions with Dementors, really--she did appreciate the reassurance her elder sister doled out.  "Do you think so?" she fished, glancing at Prim from over her cup before taking a sip.  "It did seem like Neville--sorry, Auror Longbottom--was planning on speaking with him anyhow.  And Alberic would be the person they'd talk to, suspect or no..."

She smiled.  "I'm just really glad--I didn't want to make any trouble for him.  Especially if he was your friend."  Quietly, to herself, Amaryllis admitted that she was also very glad that Prim hadn't called him that: her friend. 

"Oh, I'm not... distressed isn't the right word. It's just scary.  I was trained as an Obliviator, and I knew that meant showing up at scenes of crisis, but this necromancy and Dementors and... I mean, sometimes the crime is still going on." She shuddered.  "It's like if they suddenly started making you a part of the Werewolf Capture Unit." Actually, aside from the grim work itself, her sister might have enjoyed the task. 

"Speaking of..." she looked again at the book she'd rudely pulled her sister away from, "how is that going?"

Ah! Maree always had a head for details.  “True,” Prim muttered thoughtfully, recalling the many, many years ago that dementors had been the focus of her studies in class.  Unfortunately, it was bare bones details she could recall – it’d been so long since that had been abolished…

Frowning delicately, Prim shook her head.  Not the point, she reminded herself.  The point was Maree indicated that it appeared as though Alberic was doing so.  A thought (almost) more chilling than the beings themselves.   She didn’t want to alarm Maree, anymore than she already was at any rate, and she nodded, trying to be reassuring.  She’d ignore the first name basis with an auror bit for now (she felt if she latched onto that before anything else she’d be too much like their mother) and move on.  “That’s most likely,” though not guaranteed, if the current state of affairs status updates from Level 2 were to be believed, “and even if they don’t, I’m sure Alberic will be required to fill something out to document the incident.”   

It’d probably be meticulous, if he did.  Prim had never seen someone more… precise, down to his posture.  It was almost too precise, like inhumanly so.  Prim would have never mentioned it, however (to some degree for fear it might be true).  At least, she felt some level of relief that Maree’s part in that part of this business was over for the time being.  Hopefully next time it would be much less chaotic – and much less in progress.  “You could request a transfer to a different… oh what would call them? Committee?” she offered, probably unhelpfully, “I’m sure if you wanted to, that wouldn’t be a problem.  I could talk to someone, if you’d like.” 

That was probably a poor choice, Prim reasoned, as she had precious few friends in the Ministry who could do much of anything like that, but she’d still say it in attempts to be supportive. 

Of course, she tried not to look exceptionally sour when Maree mentioned the werewolf capture unit.  This didn’t mean her jaw didn’t tighten and mouth didn’t pinch tighter though. A heavy sigh.  “It’s going; I’m working on identifying legislative precedents,” she wrinkled her nose, “and it’s confirmed one thing: if I fail at this, I have a promising career as a barrister.” 

"Well," Maree began, frowning at the thought of requesting a change, "that would just mean someone else had to do it.  And I was told it was good for career potentials."  She sighed.  Neither of those reasons was what she felt tied her to it, though.  "It's scary; far worse than the other debacles I have to show up and manage, for sure." And she'd seen some bad things.  Obliviators couldn't wait for things to settle down.  They were supposed to handle things as they occurred.  "I don't feel like I'm doing much by way of Obliviating, but somehow, in a scene full of Aurors and, well, Alberics, it does help to have someone not quite so... businesslike reminding people that their victims are human."

There was Auror Gamp, however.  She'd been kind to that one victim. Elliot. 

Speaking of reminding people they were human... Prim's dogged dedication was going to run her ragged if she didn't take some time to unwind.  "Precedents on...?" she fished.  "I can't imagine you as a barrister, but you have the charm and cleverness for it." A sudden thought hit her and she gasped. "But wait! Would you get to wear one of the powdered wigs, then?!"

That was just like Maree: never wanting to put anyone else in a bad circumstance.  She’d rather stick in something she didn’t want to do than put another person into it.  If it wasn’t so damaging to herself, Prim would have told her it was a noble thing to do.  Unfortunately, the eldest Woolfolk could not see it that way.  She could see, however, the potential for career growth from such an assignment.  At least one of them should be advancing their careers, after all!  “I know this probably sounds ridiculous coming from me,” Prim smiled a little, “but sometimes upward mobility isn’t the most important thing if you’re unhappy.” 

It even sounded ridiculous as it was coming out of her mouth. Prim was singularly minded and she wanted to be at the top of her field as quickly as possible.  This was the next step in getting there: one piece of successful legislation would be enough for the time being.  Perhaps she had to take her own advice. 

At least Maree was grounded though.  “They do benefit from you being there, that’s true,” Prim laughed lightly.  “I cannot imagine Alberic giving a second thought to a victim as human,” she mused with a teasing smile, “I’m not entirely sure he would even give himself that title.”  She wasn’t sure how many other witches and wizards would either.  Alberic was a curious individual, and sometimes did not register as wholly flesh and blood. 

He was useful though, if only as a sounding board.  Prim never got much out of him in the way of answers, preferring monosyllabic responses to her tirades.  “Precedents on full moon safe housing,” Prim wrinkled her nose.  “Charm isn’t quite the word I would use,” she grinned, rather than dwelling and then full out laughed.  “Merlin forbid!” she gsaped, putting her hands on her face. “That’d be dreadful.” 

Lowering her hands, she put them in her lap.  “I’d rather quit the law altogether and squirrel away in the barn if it came to that.”  She paused for a moment, imagining it.  “You know, all things considered, that might not be a bad idea anyway.”