Sandy was not expected in the Witch Weekly office. A proof of every copy came to his house. He did not get time to read it always. He wished he had read it this time. It was on sale now. He told someone to get Genevieve. He went straight to his office. He did not go there often. It had bookshelves with all the old editions. It had a window over the Alley. The frames were painted to match the magazine's logo.

March he had Koko and Genny in this office. He had told them the rules. He had promised Andy Koko would not write about her again. Then she agreed to interview.

Sandy paced back and forth. He rehearsed what he would tell Andy. He muttered and stuttered. Andy could not expect a magazine never to write about her. She knew it was a risk if Lawrence came to hospital. The Snitch would write worse. Genny could have done worse. But she had done. She had not warned him. He did not know Mordent. The magazine was open on his desk. He stopped and read the page again.

Queen G didn’t work on Saturdays. Saturdays were made for waking up with a hangover from the night before, recovering slowly throughout the day and going back out again later. They were certainly not for sitting at a desk and acting like a professional.  But today, Genny García-Gamp fully anticipated a difficult conversation. Or at least, she anticipated a small slap on the wrist and a brief, not truly felt telling off before she went back home and continued to nurse her hangover.

No, Sandy Misslethorpe wasn’t expected at the magazine by the Witch Weekly staff but he was certainly anticipated by its Editor.

The lights in her office were off. It was dark and quiet and it smelled distinctly of very strong coffee. G’s long suffering assistant had been brought in this morning for her boss; and having anticipated G’s mood, she’d brought the strongest coffee available.

The knock at the door went straight through the witch’s brain and her head snapped up from her mini slumber at the desk.
“Misslethorpe’s here, Gen.”
“Knew it.”
“His office. Looks like he’s sat on a hedgehog this morning.”
“Ha!” Gen pushed herself from the seat and stood. “Poor guy’s probably had a fit at this week’s edition.”

When she arrived at the owner’s office, Gen didn’t bother to knock. She pushed open the door, strolled in and pushed the door shut behind her.
“Would I be right in guessing you’ve not called me in here to congratulate me on a job well done?” Her wand was in her hand, dimming the lights in the room.

It did not surprise Sandy that Genevieve had a hangover. The stench of coffee was enough. He did not answer her question. It was rhetorical. He must not stutter.
"We had an agreement Genevieve." Sandy said. "You did not warn me. Explain." Did she not know how difficult this made his situation? Did she think he could not make her situation difficult?

Genevieve wouldn’t exactly refer to their ‘agreement’ as an agreement. It was an instruction not to allow Koko to write anything about, what she affectionately labelled, ‘the murder couple’. With little choice when the owner, thus her boss, instructed her no to do something, Gen had acquiesced reluctantly. Sandy had thought that was then the issue put to bed.

G had had other ideas as soon as she’d found out about Lawrence’s move to St Mungo’s.

“A warning would have helped?” G asked, leaning against the door and folding her arms, wand back in her pocket. “Noted, boss.” She would have made more of her response had her head not currently been hurting so much! It was as if there was a mini duel taking place between some very angry pixies in her brain.

“You can’t seriously have expected me to just not cover something like that? I’m shocked the Daily Prophet haven’t dived on it themselves!”

Sandy had a feeling the Prophet knew but knew better. It was sensitive and secretive.
"It puts me in a difficult position." He said. "Musgrave is need to know. I am one who knows." He pointed at himself. It was much easier when he was just a normal healer. "Of course I expect you to cover it. But at least tell me your source. Storm is going to haul them over hot coals. To put it nicely." Sandy put his hands on his hips. He looked at G.

It must have been a challenge, to have secret information that you couldn’t share to make yourself more money. As a reporter, being in such a position rarely happened; unless it would put someone at risk. The type of information that they shared at Witch Weekly would risk a mere divorce rather than lives.

There was no chance in her naming her source and Sandy surely knew it because she’d never done so to date. Did he want a decent reporter in charge of the magazine or a blabbermouth that named everyone that shared their secrets?

But Storm bullying more staff? Genny grinned, tilting her head.
“Can I quote you on that?” She could guess his expression before she saw it and she laughed. “Chill out. What’s she going to do to you? Complain again? Make threats of your job when she’s just promoted you?”

Was it stuffy in the room or was it the stubborn hangover? Gen moved around Sandy to open the window as she continued to speak, “I promised you that Koko wouldn’t write about the Murder Couple again. I have, so far, upheld that promise, meaning you’ve kept yours.”

"Not just threats. If they b-believe this is from me they will suspend me." Sandy said. But he shrugged. He said in a low tone. "It is no secret our Head Healer makes staffing rearrangements to improve a bad mood."

"That is true. Though Andy will not see it like that. She needs thicker skin." He sat. He put his chin in his hands. "What else did you find out?" Sandy asked.

In response to his comment about Storm’s bad moods, Gen stared at him.
“And you still choose to work for a boss like that?” Genny liked Sandy, but she felt he was too much of a pushover. But then, Witch Weekly had taken her away from a rude and uncompromising boss at the Daily Prophet.

And like that, Sandy no longer seemed mad. He was good to work for, fair, understanding, nothing like Barnabas Cuffe.

The question that she always enjoyed came, and Genny perched herself on the edge of his desk as had become habitual. She grinned, eyes glistening with the familiar glow of excitement.

“They’ve got someone else to work with him, haven’t they? Does the ministry distrust your boss, Sandy?” Her grin only grew despite the pounding headache. “My source was eager to describe his ridiculous cardigans. I’m not sure if it's him on gillyweed or Miranda Storm’s new babysitter.” Sandy needed to give her something, it was only polite.

Sandy shot Genny a look. He did not choose to work for a boss. He chose to be a healer. Not to do her job.
"Mr Morgenthau is a renowned expert in legilimens. If you were to say it was convenient. That he was that and Head Unspeakable..." Sandy shrugged his shoulders. He smirked. "You could do a feature on his hideous sweaters." Genny was better than that. She knew how to dig. "Would you trust a victim?" He asked. "Miranda is an excellent healer. But Lawrence Musgrave was our classmate. Our friend."

Gen’s mind was whirring excitedly with the thought of the Ministry’s Head of Mysteries being a talented legilimens. That, perhaps, wasn’t the best move politically for the Minister to have made considering the disaster that was Mortimer Gamp and the kidnapping of children. Mortimer Gamp was her husband’s uncle. At the time, Gen had, of course, made the dry and not at all amusing joke of keeping it in the family. Mortimer had always appeared a creepy bastard and now his successor was skilled at reading minds. Not exactly a way to make people trust the ministry.

"You could do a feature on his hideous sweaters."
Sandy’s suggestion merely received a raised eyebrow. Possibly one of his more boring ideas.

“Was he more than a friend, though?” Gen pushed herself up off the desk and turned to smirk at her boss. “He’s clearly obsessed with her and you don’t get that sort of obsession without sex.” Koko had implied as much in a past article. “I didn’t believe it myself but…to have him there in her hospital? She’s either planning on killing him or dropping her knickers for him. Poor Ignan Storm; he probably paid for those knickers.”

"I do not think so." Sandy said. "She never left Storm's bedside. Musgrave tried to kill him." He took this much more seriously. "And you will not run a story on Andy. I mean Miranda." It was talk like this when he remembered he was not like his dad. His dad would have done it. His dad would have been all about the magazine. It was everything to him when he was alive.

"Genevieve this does not go out of this room." Sandy said. His face was dark. "I declare a conflict of interest. Me and Musgrave." He hoped he did not have to color in the picture for his editor. That he was Sandy's patient.

She wouldn’t run a story? Gen didn’t respond immediately, mildly irked by being told what she couldn’t do. Was she the editor or was he? She’d been hired year ago to run the magazine as she saw fit and she’d made Sandy and the other owners a ton of money. His own personal issue, however, was getting in the way of her doing her job. Why was Miranda Storm so special to him that he’d draw the line on using her as the subject of what could be a very popular article?

"I declare a conflict of interest. Me and Musgrave." Sandy continued and Gen’s eyes widened with realisation. The sneaky wizard was in on it too! No wonder he’d been irritated with her publishing! He could easily have looked like the leak!

“You jammy beggar! But what’s the point in that information if it can’t go out of the room, Sandy? It’s like you’re waving a cheque for a 1000 galleons in front of my face but I can’t reach it. You know I hate keeping secrets.” She pouted dramatically. “Give me something I can use or in next week’s issue I will be writing about this gillyweed smoking department head’s eye for sensational jumpers and no one wants to read that rubbish.” She’d find something, she always did. But her best source was giving her stuff that he forbade her use!

Sandy crossed his arms. He was irritated with Genevieve.
"I tell you because then you know why I am saying no." Sandy said. "It was not the plan for me to be in there at all. But now I am. It does not feel like a check for 1000 galleons to me. It is a gag of profession and business." He was saying too much. "I do not like to tell you no. You know that. I prefer to keep out of your decisions. I want to stay out of your decisions." Sandy frowned. "What do you want to know. I can answer without answering if I can."

Part of Gen would have preferred not to know if she couldn’t write about it. As he spoke, it reminded Gen slightly of a parent speaking to their child. He didn’t like to tell her no and avoided it. But sometimes, needs must. Gen felt rather the same about her son and today’s conversation only served to make her hangover headache worse. She’d be taking the terribly long journey up the stairs home soon where perhaps a nap might be in need in order to sleep off the hangover and get ready for the night.

“Why are they keeping it a secret?” Gen flopped herself down into one of the seats opposite his desk, stretching her legs out and crossing one over the other as she sat back comfortably. A hand reached up, giving her eyes a rub. “The Daily Prophet havn’t touched this so there’s definitely something fishy going on there. We both know Cuffe couldn’t crawl any further up Glass’s arse.” The Daily Prophet supported the Ministry. That meant their silence on this was purposeful.

“But...speaking of Glass,” Gen dropped her hand and looked back at him, pleased with herself. “I’ve made a friend, Sandy. A very powerful one. He’s even found me a contact to help with my problem.” Gen tended to refer to her husband as her problem. Her permanent problem that refused to go away.

"If you lost someone in the Leaky Cauldron last year... No. If your relative was in St Mungo's because of dementors would you like their attacker in there too? Instead of going to Azkaban?" He answered with a question. But he could not give the answer. Genevieve could work it out.

"Maybe Cuffe has the promise of a juicy bone." Sandy said. It would not surprise Sandy. The Ministry had control.

"Just the one?" Sandy asked. He was sarcastic. "Why does Edwin Glass want to be your friend? What use are you? I mean. What use are you to him?" Sandy thought Genny was very useful to him. A headache sometimes. But useful.