“We’re clocking off early.” Edward Pratt told his colleague as they left the training room on Level 4 and made their way through the corridors towards the lifts to take them up to the atrium and to escape. Pratt’s pace was quick, eager to put as much distance as was possible between himself and Miss Pickler the 20 something blonde ministry employee that had spent the day telling him merlin knew what about beasts and beings while he pretended to listen.

There were times during the ‘course’ that the Head Auror didn’t even pretend to be listening. He took the section on why vampires had feelings as an opportunity to flick through some of the reports he’d brought down with him in order to not end up devastatingly behind on work because his boss wanted to torture him.

“Edward?” The vampire hugger had stood right in front of him, demanding he look up from the reports. She’d insisted all day on referring to them by first name to create a more friendly atmosphere. Ed hadn’t been game and insisted on calling ‘Penelope’ ‘Miss Pickler’ all day despite various reminders of her ‘friendly’ idea. “Am I boring you?” she’d asked, fully expecting the wizard to realise he’d been rude and put his files and quill down.
“Yes.” Edward had replied as he’d signed his signature on yet another document far more important than this charade. He hadn’t even looked up when he tutted.
Carstairs could receive another complaint for all Pratt cared, it would give the bureaucrat something to do with his favourite quill and ink pot.

The hours dragged. After a half an hour lunch break Ed had to force himself to go back to the abyss that was the training room. The only thing that dragged him back in there was the thought of losing his job and taking a hefty demotion just because some prissy and overly sensitive vampire got above their station.

It was just past five when Nadine and Ed joined the mass exodus of ministry staff heading through the atrium towards the fireplaces and it was only a few minutes later when the two stepped through the doors of The Sword and Chant. By quarter past five they were sat at a small table with drinks in front of them.

Slumping back in his chair, Ed closed his eyes to enjoy the lack of Miss Pickler’s voice grating his mind and soul.
“You tell no one about the role play.”

“Which one,” Nadine asked, “the werewolf post-transformation or the vampire in need of a bite to eat?” She asked, a bright white smile growing as she thought about the day. It had been tedious in more than a few ways, but if she wanted an easy life, she had to follow the directions of their Department Head. A day listening to Pickler wasn’t such hard work, even if she didn’t have paperwork to complete during it like the Head Auror. Nadine was generally one of the few on top of her paperwork.

“Remember sarcasm is not a valid form of placating humour,” the auror repeated one of Pickler’s points. She’d had many of them, quite a number had been in rhyme or with alliteration in the hope that they might stick in people’s heads. The rest of the attendees had been new recruits to the Ministry, who all had to sit through it as part of their induction and to pass their probation. Nadine and Ed had previously been spared of it, just forced to acknowledge memos and quick ten minute mentions in their regular trainings on law and combat.

Her ridiculous, and often infectious, laugh began as she lifted her beer, and she had to place it down.
“You did a marvellous job at averting your gaze while you tried to wrap that Transport administrator in a blanket to hide their modesty, rather than throttling them with it as per earlier suggestion.”

The glare Ed shot his colleague was a lot less severe than the one he’d stared at Penelope Pickler with all day. His mother would have told him that his face would have stuck like that if the wind changed. His father would have laughed at the fact that his youngest son had to attend a course in being nice to beasts and beings.

Before he responded, Ed took a swig of the firewhiskey and let it burn its way down his throat.
“Try not to scowl, Mr Pratt,” He started, mocking the high pitched voice of their torturer for the day, “a smile can warm a thousand hearts.” the roleplay had been ridiculous and yet Nadine had remained calm throughout. She’d made it through the torture in her own professional way whereas Ed had reverted to being a bored teenager in a muggle studies lesson.

“If she tells Carstairs that I’ve not passed that course I will throttle someone next time.” Bright green eyes fell on Pinn. “You’ve passed. she loved you, ye teacher’s pet.”

"Ah you see," Nadine replied, a bright smile on her face, "keep my head down, less pain all round. Then if I do find something worthy of kicking a fuss up about, people will pay attention." There was a moment of straight-faced confidence with that explanation, and then it dissolved, Nadine's ridiculous laugh breaking the moment. "I thought you'd never run out of adjectives beginning with P, towards the end," she laughed, "Pickler wasn't counting on your pachydermatous[1] approach to her session, that's for sure."

Nadine swigged her beer and shook her head.
"I can't believe we wasted a whole day on four because of a stupid vampire moaning that we didn't give him a hug over two dead bodies." She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table to study Ed more closely. "How are you going to get him back?"

1.	emotionally hardened

The first whiskey went down with a little too much ease. This caused the thirsty auror to wave at the witch in a short skirt for another. She grinned, nodded and tottered back behind the bar.

“That would be tellin’” tone gruff, Ed sat back and smirked as he considered. The mere fact that his boss had put him on this sensitivity course because a snivelling vampire had whinged about being treated unfairly made Ed feel a mild amount more displa
easure for the former than the latter. Carstairs didn’t like him and perhaps the only real consolation was that the position was cursed. A new Head of Department would be disliking him soon enough.

“I’ve been considering an improvement for the aroma of Level 4.” Pratt spoke quietly, as if sharing a secret with his colleague. “I’ve been reliably informed that vampire love garlic and I would very much like to make the pale pri-person feel at home.”

“Oooh,” Nadine replied in a low tone, “You’re right, it did smell a bit funny last I was down there,” then again it often did on that floor with all the creatures and beings which passed through during a day. “Isn’t there a grocer down Knockturn who owes us a favour for not calling in the moonshine to the patrol?” Nadine smiled and lifted her wand to her tightly pinned hair, loosening the bun a little for comfort. To let it go entirely would be to turn into an undignified puffball.

“You know I’m fairly sure they cell that giant variety too, the ones the size of small footballs.” Nadine ran her right hand over her hair as she lowered her wand in her left, satisfied she’d done the job properly. “Do it at shift change, nobody from the day shift would notice before he turned up that night. They’re Level 4, they hardly notice any strange smells and occurrences. But,” Nadine inclined towards Ed, both elbows on the table top, “that’s just once, not exactly worthy exchange of a day’s inconvenience and a mark on the record.”

Ed might not worry so much about that, but Nadine kept her nose clean and convenient. The less hassle in her life the better.

“My record’s got enough marks on it for another to merely be decoration.” Ed was probably the least politically correct and verbally discreet Head Auror the ministry had seen. He didn’t care for speaking carefully and putting people at ease. He didn’t worry who he offended. His record was littered in complaints from ministry employees, failure to follow procedures and complaints from detainees and witnesses. Yet, despite this, he’d been one of the most efficient and dedicated aurors in the corps, and been promoted by his boss to the position he now held. He’d go no further, Ed accepted and embraced that. It was one thing to have the bolshy Yorkshire wizard as a Head auror, it was another to stick in the Department Head’s office and give him a whole floor to control. Carstairs could keep that job and the Vampire could put as many marks on his record as he liked.

But Pinn made the most important point, this complaint had wasted a day in the perfectly pathetic programme of platitudes with Penelope Pickler. They could have spent the day doing their actual jobs.

“Well, when the office collapses, I’ll blame it on a vampire with a bruised ego and silky skin and a boss that’s scared of pissing off a minority in order to save his own job.”

“Oh Ed, surely not,” Nadine doubted, just enough sympathy to convey she didn’t humour it as a mark of respect to have so many problems on a record. Nadine generally worked to keep hers as squeaky clean as possible. “And you’re amazing, my dear, but I don’t think the office will collapse without you for a day. You did resign as Head Auror not so long ago, remember.” Nadine smiled and gently laid her hand on his arm as she recalled, attempting warmth, and communicating it with enough authenticity.

A figure in her field of vision sparked her attention and she gripped Ed’s arm lightly.
“Gosh, it’s a small world.” It wasn’t Pickler, no, nor their vampire foe, for it was still early for him even in March. “I think we’re thirsty, don’t you?”

“Correction; I tried to resign as Head Auror. Bastard wouldn’t hire a replacement.” So Ed was still the Head Auror. There’s been no real discussion between himself and Carstairs about keeping the position. It had just happened and Ed hadn’t bothered to push it. So in reality the office hadn’t had any time without the Head Auror. It didn’t matter now, anyway. As far as he was aware, nothing major had happened during their pointless training other than a intolerable waste of time.

And as if by magic, the cause of the waste of time was gestured to at the bar.

“I think we’re thirsty, don’t you?” Pinn stated and Ed’s brows rose.

“Positively parched.” Once more his Ps exploded as he pulled his wand from his holster and pointed it at their once empty glasses. They began to carefully float across the pub to land on the bar in front of Gamp. Ed sat back and returned his wand to the holster at his hip.

Ceph was frequenting pubs, or so he reflected as he glanced about the Sword and Chant. The day before he’d been up at Hogwarts, on a panel about sex education, which was an odd way to spend a Sunday. The panel had ended and headed to the Three Broomsticks, and now here he was, on Monday, seeking out an elusive friend of a friend who needed a pianist.

He rested his hands on the bar, arms straight and looked up and down, considering whether he would have half while he waited. Two glasses landed over his shoulder and placed themselves in front of him. He looked down at the empty whisky and pint glasses. There was a hint of lipstick on the pint glass. Ceph glanced left and right at the gaps either side of him at the bar. If these were empties, they wouldn’t have positioned themselves right here.

He lifted his hands and turned on the spot to survey the tables behind him, spotting Ed and Nadine. Nadine was waving at him, her long left fingers wiggling and a smug, suggestive smile on her face. Oh Gods, he suddenly remembered where they were today. He groaned and turned back to the bar.
“Half of dragon scale, fire whisky and,” he sniffed the pint glass to check what Nadine was drinking, “pint of Wizard’s, please.”

It was a minute or so until he approached their table, the three drinks drifting through the air before him.
“Evening,” Ceph greeted, keeping an even tone. The drinks settled on the table, and he dragged a stool out from the other side of the little table, resigned that he would need to humour their complaints. “I trust you both had a good day?”

“Purely prosaic and painful.” Pratt had spent the better part of the day thinking up words beginning with P to use in response to Penelope Pickler’s questions. He was perfectly positive that she hadn’t been perceptive to his plan. Pratt had needed to provide particular forms of pleasure during his plight.

“Penelope Pickler presumed precisely that I was projecting my pissed off platitudes for you onto Pickler herself.” It was tiring exhausting to watch all of his ‘p’s so the wizard took his replenished glass and enjoyed a sip of the first drink Gamp would be buying this evening. At least he didn’t have the kids tonight.

“I’m perplexed as to why she might presume I was pissed with you.”

Nadine scoffed at Ceph’s greeting. She reached for her second pint and let Ed describe what it had been like, chucking intermittently.
“Not particularly polite,” she agreed with Ed, “but Pickler’s a precious, personable person, but particularly proper about protocol.”

Cepheus sat back on the stool to look from one to the other.
“Right.” He said flatly, drinking from his half.

“Come on Ceph, that doesn’t work.” Nadine chastised her once brother-in-law. He had to play this puerile game too.

The Being Division Head set his glass down and wiped the foam from his upper lip. He hadn’t expected to play word games. He’d also been hoping to placate young Penelope into sleeping on her decision to submit a complaint about the Head Auror’s conduct during that day’s training. Now he was starting to understand why Pickler was at his office door frustrated as he was trying to slip out promptly.

“I glean Pratt, Pinn, that you feel your parochial views on Beings have been patronised by a peppy, petite politically-correct person. The very same who stood palpitant at my office door before I departed, owing to what you might have perceived to be pawky behaviour on your parts.” He looked from one auror to the other, pressing his lips together.

“I did suggest she delay her complaint on your pubescent pursuit…” he sighed, raising his eyes to try  and consider how to phrase things. “But consider this your provisionary warning if it bypasses my desk to Carstairs tomorrow.”

“Piss buckets.”

The exclamation came as Ed sat back, frowning at his old schoolmate and the twerp that had signed him up to positivity and diversity training in the first place. It was one thing for a sensitive vampire to whinge and whine, yet another for someone he’d known and been cordial with for over 20 years to help said vampire with the whinging and whining.

“Does everyone in your department complain, Ceph?” The Head Auror had run out of motivation to continue with all of the ‘P’s. He was still irritated at having had his day wasted. And now for a complaint to be made for him showing said irritation? It was turning into a joke.

“What happened to sucking things up and dealing with them properly? If one of my aurors came to me whining that one of your staff wasn’t very nice to them, I’d tell them to pull their pants up and act like an adult.”

“Does everyone in your department complain, Ceph?”
“Some days it feels like it,” Cepheus agreed, “lately it’s mostly been your floor.”

“What happened to sucking things up…”
“Hm.” Cepheus replied, keeping calm, “I’m pretty sure Tristan and company would be very happy to ‘suck things up’ for you, but not quite in the manner you desire.” He extended his forefinger gently towards Pratt before taking a drink. “Just keep it civil next time you see him, because I can’t palm you off with a seminar next time. Going to be difficult enough to ask questions in covens without your team making jokes about stakes.” He frowned, “we don’t want to pick up any more dry bodies.”

“Merlin glad you don’t come with us for a drink,” Nadine moaned, “Killjoy. You’d have thought Vaillancourt would have thicker skin after living so long. How old is he anyway, a hundred, two?”
“It doesn’t really make a difference, Nad. Older than us. Maybe invite him for a drink, clear the air.” Ceph shrugged at them both. He didn’t particularly like being the go-between in this situation. Nad and Ed just thought it was funny to make jokes about a minority, and then were grumpy because they’d had to digest a change to their approach. Ceph had chosen the wrong pub to wander in that evening…