"You should have seen him, Eva. I don't think he was acting."
She wished she had seen him. She wished she’d been in the atrium when he’d come in to hand himself over. In reality, she’d been sent home on Solomon Carstairs’ instructions. Apparently having extra staff in the ministry that night had been dangerous, unpredictable. The ministry had been put on lockdown and Eva had sat awake all night wondering what the one wizard she wished dead was coming back to the ministry to do.

“Of course, he’s tired. He’s spent the better part of a year with dementors in his head. A cell on Level 2 is a fucking holiday.”

But Harper suggested they stop talking about ‘Lawrence’, that she was a clean slate for him, an unbiased aide for the tired and desperate man. Eva felt her fingernails digging into her palms as her hands balled up, fists clenched. She’d wanted a nice evening. She’d thought Lawrence Musgrave was completely behind her back in France when she’d chosen to return to the UK. But now dementors were on everyone’s tongues and the wizard that had gladly convicted her was a floor below her office at work, getting help from her unknowing best friend.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Her napkin was placed on the table and Eva went to stand. Her hands were shaking, the thought of this wizard getting a better treatment that she had on her unlawful arrest. “Just…just ask Lawrence if he thinks there should be a wizengamot between his cell and Azkaban. Ask him if he thinks he deserves that privilege. There’s some lovely treatments for him on Level 9.[1]”

1.	References to Be Here Now where Lawrence Musgrave arrested and interrogated Evangeline about her 'stealing magic'.

The more her friend spoke, the less Harper understood. Good God - were her hands shaking? The lawyer turned around in her seat to face outwards as Eva got up in what was clearly a state of anxiety. George peeked his head out from under the table cloth to stare at their guest, alert.

            "I’m sorry, I can’t do this."
"Can't do what?" Harper folded up her own napkin and looked up, though Eva continued to speak.

If this had been anyone besides Kuester - if it had been someone who had never worked on level two or who Harper didn't personally like - the request would have been a far-fetched demand. It still was, but that wasn't what surprised her.

"I've already said, I can't do... I can't do anything like that. What's gotten into you Eva?" she implored with a small frown on her brow - she wanted to say that Lawrence hadn't even expected to survive his own surrender, much less assert that he felt he deserved a better fate.

Except, she couldn't tell the other witch anything at all could she? They had spoken in confidence. "You know there has to be a trial, it doesn't matter what he thinks. Or what anyone else thinks. It's his right."
 

“It’s a right he took from me when he was an auror!” The words came out before she could stop them. The normally cool, calm and collected witch was now feeling quite the opposite. A couple of years ago she’d finally felt that it was behind her, that she could return and move on, pick up where she’d left off in a hopefully changed world. But the nightmares had resurfaced after many years and the living nightmare was Harper’s new client. It wasn’t even Musgrave himself that scared Eva so much; it was his position. He’d been an auror, a person to trust in a ministry she’d worked for and had loved. He’d been a colleague who had broken into her house and arrested her, terrified her, left her for dead in a prison guarded by dementors.

Eva was fully stood, although she didn’t yet move to leave the room.
“I didn’t see a courtroom or a lawyer between him breaking into my house to drag me out of it and sending me to Azkaban for a crime that isn’t even possible to commit. He took that right that you talk about away from me and merlin knows how many other people.”

“I know there has to be a trial. That’s how the law should work,” Eva had stopped trusting the law that night nearly 14 years ago. It was one of the reasons she’d not re-joined level 2, “and you have to be an unbiased practitioner of the law. You’re doing your job. But to hear he’s got some pretty good legal advice there for him…and that he’s getting what he stole from me…” she shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears she was holding back. “that’s hard to hear.”

            "It’s a right he took from me when he was an auror!"

Harper felt like someone had just handed her a pair of reading glasses to wear - her friend's behaviour gained clarity in an instant, the context behind her words filling itself out. A grim story littered with details about the second wizarding war that she had never herself experienced. She had been in America at the time. Eva.... Eva was a muggleborn.

And Lawrence Musgrave had done a terrible thing to her.

"Eva..." Harper rose from the dining table, quickly going to the other witch to give her a hug. Her arms came around Eva's shoulders and she sighed unhappily at the thought of seeing someone as strong as Eva reduced to near-tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know he did that to you."

What she wanted to say - but didn't - was that she wished she hadn't been told. Harper knew this knowledge would sit on her mind the next time she saw Lawrence.

She couldn't let it influence how his case was going to be handled.

"Maybe we should break out some of that bourbon now," Harper muttered and stepped back slightly to look Eva in the face.

Harper didn’t know because they’d never discussed it. They’d never needed to. They would occasionally joke and discuss the days back at the ministry before the war when they’d first met. They’d talk about the people they’d worked with, the ridiculous jobs they’d done. But the war ad always been a forbidden topic. Since her return to Britain, Eva had actively avoided the topic but with the dementors and Lawrence Musgrave’s arrest, it seemed like her past was caving in on her and she found herself wanting to scream.

The hug was received and when Harper pulled back, Eva lifted her hand to wipe away any escaped tears. She wasn’t a weak person, but this always made her weak.

"Maybe we should break out some of that bourbon now," Probably the most sensible idea of the evening was suggested by Harper and Eva nodded, glancing back down at the table and the food she no longer had an appetite for.

“You knew it happened, didn’t you?” Her arms were folded over her chest, a defensive position. “Or did you just never…consider what happened when you left?” Her tone wasn’t harsh; it was calm, curious.

She smiled softly at Eva, reassured by the sight of the other witch pulling herself together. It had been a long time ago and although pains could still feel fresh, they had the benefit of retrospect. Harper moved away and turned to her kitchen cabinets in search of that much-needed hard drink. The pasta felt cold and unwanted in the pit of her stomach.


"You knew it happened, didn’t you?" Eva spoke while Harper opened a high cupboard, facing away. "Or did you just never…consider what happened when you left?"

Her fingers closed around the heavy glass body of a half-full bottle and she glanced over her shoulder, frowning. This question had always been bound to pop up but she wished it had been under more therapeutic circumstances.

"I don't know. I figured you'd tell me if you wanted to talk about it." Harper shrugged before finding two small glasses, and setting the bourbon down on the dinner table - it was Knob Creek, about nine years aged. "Lots of people don't. Not my place to pry, unless you want to talk about it now?"

Eva wasn't a client, it wasn't her place to needle personal facts out of the former attorney. Harper liked to afford her friends privacy if she thought they needed it and it helped her nurture a similar sense of respect in a professional capacity too.

She tapped the bottle cap with her fingernail. "C'mon. Let's try some of Kentucky's finest."

“I’ll never want to talk about it.” The witch gave a shrug. Really talking about it made it real, like it wasn’t just a nasty dream she’d had. Everyone had skirted the issue since her return to Britain and she appreciated that. It meant none of the awkwardness in telling them it wasn’t a dinner conversation topic and neither was in something to gain sympathy from. She didn’t want Harper’s sympathies or pity. But the thought of Lawrence Musgrave…it drove her to distraction!

“Finalement!” she replied when the bottle was placed on the kitchen table. The stronger stuff had been mentioned fairly soon after her arrival, after all.

Before Eva did sit back down, however, she looked at Harper, a serious expression on her face.
“Just do one thing for me, please. See if he’ll have a meeting with me, a private chat.” She needed it, wanted to speak to him. Perhaps it would be the closure she needed.

Harper wanted to remind her friend: never say never. It helped to talk about these things. Still, maybe now wasn't the time. Too much bourbon at hand and the revelation of what Lawrence had done was still fresh in mind.

              "Just do one thing for me, please. See if he’ll have a meeting with me, a private chat."

She had just sat back down at the small kitchen table when Eva made this request. A look of surprise came over the attorney's face, a confused frown already forming - a question in her expressive eyes. Eva was keen on not talking about the past but she wanted to meet Lawrence? Why in Merlin's name would anyone want to...?

"I don't understand -" Harper paused, grabbed the liquor bottle and began to pour out two fingers for each of them, "- you obviously hate his guts. What do you think meeting with him is going to accomplish?"

It sounded like it would be uncomfortable for everyone involved. "I mean I'll ask him if he's alright with it but I can't make any promises..." she picked up her glass and downed half of the bourbon in one swallow.

"- you obviously hate his guts. What do you think meeting with him is going to accomplish?"
“Closure.” The answer seemed simple. She wanted explanation from him, reasoning as to why he did it. Or simply to be able to be confident he was inherently evil and she could push it behind her. At this point now, she was willing to try most things to finally will herself to move on and perhaps move forward with her life. It still held her back. It would until she could face it.

Despite not seeming keen on the prospect, Harper agreed to ask him, receiving a smile from her friend who finally sat back down and took the liquid she’d been poured.
“Thanks,” she took her own large gulp, closing her eyes as the much stronger liquid slipped down her throat.

“Can we return to me bitching about my boss?” The witch offered a smile and a wink. She’d really done a number on ruining this evening!

If closure was what Eva wanted, then who was she to judge? Harper figured it wouldn't hurt to try - and she would make it clear to Lawrence that he was under no obligation to agree if he felt uncomfortable with the interaction. So. That was settled. There was no reason to linger on the subject seeing as how neither of them were eager to talk about trauma.

"Your boss - you mean everyone's boss, right?" Harper laughed, snorting into her glass as she took another (smaller) sip. God she loved a good bourbon; it reminded her of her grandparents, who served it almost exclusively back in Odessa.

Looked like Eva liked it too. "Let us have it then," she smiled at her friend, "What's the dirt on Minister Glass?"