Fauna stood just outside of Whizz Hard Books, and took a few deep, calming breaths. Bloody and Sacred, a History of Unicorns rested on the stand in the display window. Paper cutouts of trees in dark brown and black were layered around it, with orange and red leaves that fluttered in an invisible wind. One large tree arched around the window, and on the wide branch at the top of the pane, just above the whirls and whorls made to look like a forest floor, a smaller scene played out. A white unicorn galloped down the branch, horn and hooves glinting gold. Beneath his hooves, tiny specks of leaves glittered silver then red. The unicorn disappeared into a little hole in the tree, where an owl hooted, and after about ten seconds, the pattern repeated itself.

She admired the detail, the enchantment, as she checked the time on her pocket watch and the lunchtime crowd strolled on by. She wiped her clammy palms on her black trousers. Her face, a bit pale, was reflected in the window pane, her hair darkening with the colder months. But she looked put together. She straightened her shoulders.

This past week had been one of those 'cry into her pillow and question her job' sort of weeks. She had really, truly thought she'd gotten past that. In her last year of training, she was handling disturbing crime scenes. She made sure to take notes now in her Don't Forget to Take Notes notebook. She was interviewing criminals! Helping out other departments! Doing her job like a boss! Totally ready to become an Auror. An Auror-Auror. A real Auror. Like a boss Auror.

Then, the burglary case she'd been assigned to had turned down an unhappy path and twisted her stomach into knots. Last night she'd tearfully phoned her mum, and told her all about the Pilpher case and Figaro's face on the evidence board. One of the advantages of having a muggle mother. The disadvantage was the constant confusion.

"Figaro? Your school friend? The one you stopped talking to because he can't keep his mouth shut?"

Yes, Mum! The one who couldn't keep his mouth shut! He was also the one who would always try to cheer up his friends, who would have her back, who didn't hesitate to help out and offer his honest perspective. She knew him. He might try to snoop on Level Two, but he wouldn't commit a crime like this.

They'd decided to bring Figaro in for questioning yesterday[1], however, and she had to do it. If she didn't, someone else on Level Two would. Someone who didn't know him, or thought they knew him, and might be eager to close the case with his name at the top of it.

Early that morning she'd spent a few hours tracking down and then annoying Mercutio Tiverton with questions. After that, she'd decided to send Figaro an owl. Fauna kept it simple:

Meet me at noon in front of Wix Wheeze   Wizzard Books?

It's important.

Not quite protocol. She did it this way because she knew he'd show up, as Hufflepuffs did. She knew that barging into his work place would cause drama, and embarrass him in front of the other staff. She knew that asking him to meet her at the Ministry would make him uncomfortable, and probably suspicious, considering Raine's recent visit to his flat.

Fauna looked up as Figaro came into view.

A warm smile flickered automatically on her face, then faltered. They'd recently mended their friendship, and here she was, about to set fire to it.

1.	But he talks the way a bird sings...

Figaro trotted down the street from the Daily Prophet, hands in his trouser pockets. He'd left his coat and scarf at work, not having good enough sense to bundle up against the chill. Anyway, whatever Fauna needed, they'd end up inside somewhere.

He wasn't sure what to think when the owl came from his old (recently reconciled) friend. They certainly hadn't spoken since Raine Almasy had shown up at his flat. In fact, the only person he'd told about it was his mother who had reminded him of a motto that could have been on their family crest: Don't Talk to Aurors![1] Truly, in the last couple days, he'd kept to himself and spent his off-time at the shop instead of his usual haunts in East London. But it was Fauna! She was always good for a cheer-up.

It was a sure bet that Fauna knew exactly what happened with Raine, but he pushed away the knot in his stomach that was hoping this wasn't about that. Maybe it was about the book he'd given her last month? That cool one about the suffragette witches?[2] Figaro decided he was being paranoid. If it was anything to do with the burglary she'd have done it official-like, down at the Ministry.

He saw her. She was in uniform. On her lunch break, he figured. He grinned as he slowed to a walk. He performed a little shivver, his bare arms shrugging in the chill.

"Fauna, hey!" he might have hugged her but she seemed hesitant somehow. "Want to get some food?"

1.	4 Nov - Canaries and Magpies
2.	Hecate's Hidden Hex Handbook

His shiver! Fauna's smile twitched up.

"Where's your...?" The word 'coat' faltered with her smile. She bit her lip when he grinned. Oh Helga. Helga help her. The "it's important" bit of her note had not clued him in. Her fingers curled in against the cold, and for a moment, she fidgeted with the ends of her jacket sleeves.

Lunch?

"Um, no, I mean," she paused. "Shite," she muttered under her breath. He hadn't eaten yet? Well, shite. Of course he hadn't, it was lunchtime.

She looked around at the crowd, and then waved him into the quieter alley next to the bookstore. Her expression sobered in the shadows cast by the brick wall.

"Listen," she met his eyes. "This isn't a lunch thing, I'm sorry. I was going to..." Fauna glanced in the direction of the Daily Prophet. Don't apologize, don't explain yourself, training reminded her.

"It's the burglary case, Fig. The Philpher and Stride one. I have to bring you in for questioning."

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she pressed her mouth together to keep the apologies from springing out.

Figaro's earnest good cheer slowly eroded, little chips of it sliding away bit by bit as he followed Fauna around a corner and she looked in him the eye and ...

Christmas. 2002. Frank was gnawing on exploding snap cards. Dad was in the kitchen, cooking and singing. Figaro held his mum's wand, her hand on his. She was teaching him to light a fire in the fireplace. He was going to Hogwarts next year. 'Good, just like that. I have to bring you in for questioning'.

Fauna's voice interrupted the memory, her words coming out of his mother's mouth, close to his ear.

Figaro stared at Fauna. He stared through Fauna. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. His expression shifted from a stale smile to the grimace of having smelled something terrible, but stopped.

"Wh-"

He straightened up, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it in a drawn-out puff.

"You-"

Meeting her gaze again, he set his jaw and raised a finger. He curled it into a fist and lowered it as he crunched his eyes shut.

"Ah ha ha," he breathed a mirthless laugh and bit his lip. "Mmmhmm, yeah. Right. Okay."

He found his voice again in muttering nonsense. He started nodding, a manic energy warming his shivver. Both hands lifted to his hat, and he slowly pulled it down lower and lower until it almost overed his eyes.

"No. Nope. No no no no no..." said he in a whispered, self-soothing mantra as he turned and walked away.

"Fig. Fig!"

What was he doing? Was he in denial? Fauna hurried after him, tried to step in front him. Held her hands up in an apologetic gesture as she matched his steps and backed up. Use your damn wand, Blake! A unhelpful little voice piped up in her head, sounding very much like a chorus of senior Aurors critiquing this little dance in the alley.

"I'm so sorry, but I mean, it's-"

Stop apologizing! The voice continued.

"It's real, I'm not bullshitting you."

Fauna hunched and tried to look up into his eyes shaded by the brim of his hat.

"Fig, are you hearing me right now? Please stop walking."

M: Language

Fauna ducked in front of him, her voice coming through as if through water. Figaro stopped short and shakily pushed his hat back up and found her face. She looked worried.  Or something? And he looked like the confused knot of shock/panic/anger.

"What the fuck, Fauna," he hissed.

"What the fuck are you doing? What does that mean 'bring me in'? Bring me in?"

His volume was rising and he threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.

"What are you - you're going to bring me in? You're going to bring me in? You just send me an owl, let's meet at the goddamn book store and and and this is how you're doing it? You sent me an owl?"

He cocked his head, deeply offended by that detail in particular for some reason. He was speaking so fast he barely had time to breathe.

"You think I did it. You think I did it! Shitsake, Blake! How stupid are you! What what is this, some kind of of power move or - I didn't do anything. I don't know what Raine told you, but I was home. Asleep. You know me! I'm an idiot, I can't steal anything! This is a joke. Okay. This is a fucking joke."

He put his hands on his head and started walking backwards.

His shock and anger and disbelief and insults and shock and anger and disbelief and insults washed over her in a wave, making an impact but rolling together as his words matched the tumult in her head.

Yes, she'd sent an owl. That was probably awful and stupid. No, she was not stupid. Yes, she knew he was an idiot- well not an idiot but he wouldn't steal anything. Did he understand, not-idiot-Figaro, that she did not have a choice here? Fauna heard steps slow behind her, distantly aware of the lunchtime crowd getting an eye and earful.

No joke. No fucking joke. Regret rippled, his pain reflected on her face. She was so-

"I'm so-"

Stop. Apologizing.

Her face stilled, with effort. She straightened up as he backed away, her wand ready in her sleeve, though her hands shook in protest.

"Figaro," she said, her voice wobbling on the 'o'. "Yes, I need to bring you into the Ministry. That's my job. I don't-"

She didn't like it either. "I'm taking you into custody on Level Two, where you'll answer questions," she continued firmly. "Or not answer questions. That's your right," she took a deep breath. "You also have the right to a lawyer, and to let someone know where you are. Once we get to the Ministry."

She glanced down the alley he was backing into, hoping to Merlin he didn't start running.

"But we need to go, and it needs to be now."

He almost didn't recognize her. The way she was standing, the way she was talking. Fauna stopped seeming like Fauna. To be honest, Fig didnt really hear anything after 'custody'. The words made it to his brain, but nothing stuck. He was still trying to figure out how they'd got here. What had happened. They'd been friends. He just wasn't at a place to even attempt to sympathize with Fauna or wrap his mind around all the clues that demonstrated how much Fauna was trying to help him.

Figaro wanted to Apparate so badly. He couldn't look at Fauna anymore, so he looked at the ground and slowly drew his wand out of his pocket. But he didn't lift it to cast a vanishing act. And he didn't continue progress away. Instead, he leaned back against the cold stone wall and sank down to sitting, knees to his chest.

"I don't want to do any of that," he said flatly. "I can't believe this is happening."

Her eyes widened. Fauna's whole arm flinched.

"Don't...!"

In another second her wand was in her hand, her heart pounded in her ears, a spell caught in her mouth and all she could think was don't do it don't do it don't do it-

He wasn't even looking at her. He was sinking to the ground.

Her breath shook in her chest as she let out a sigh. Fauna slowly stepped forward, silent for a long moment. She looked down at the hat on his head, his blonde hair sticking out beneath it. Blonde, cheeky, young. 1.5 meters tall. Big heart. Hufflepuff. Coffee fetcher. Friend.

"I know."

Fauna didn't recognize her own voice, it sounded so quiet, the thin thread of guilt so loud. Though she kept her wand tucked under her thumb, she rested her hands on her knees, leaning in about a foot away. She'd never felt so... tall and so wrong.

"Fig, please."

She held out her other hand, fingers chilled and shaky. It wasn't about what they wanted.

It was probably a good thing that Figaro didn't see that Fauna had drawn her wand. He stared at the ground in front of him, aware of her moving in and offering her hand. He ignored it and was suddenly again reanimated. This time, bargaining.

From this seated position he began in earnest. "What questions are you going to ask me there that you can't ask me right now? Right now. Right now. Right now, what do you want to know? Why does it have to be there? Why can't it be here?"

Alright it was a dirty, wet alley and he had no coat on. But still.

"I'm cooperating. This is - this is me cooperating. I'm being cooperative. Ask your questions now and if you still think I'm guilty then shit, Fauna, you can 'bring me in'."  Air quotes.

He lifted the heel of his wand hand and rubbed his eye, then looked her square in the eye again. He continued chattering at a steeplechase clip, sprinting and sometimes spilling.

"This is insane, can't you see that? I'm Fig. I didn't do this. I don't know what they've told you. C'mon, what do you want to know that I didn't tell Raine. What did she say I said, because I was cooperative."

He gestured again with his wand hand. "Do you want to know, um, why I ... Where I ..." he trailed off. He couldn't thing of a single thing that he could possibly add.

"This is insane," he insisted again. He felt the time ticking.  She's said now - that they had to go now. When was it actually going to be now?

Fauna gave Figaro an exceedingly patient look, bordering on dumbstruck, as he ignored her hand and started running his mouth. Why. Why? Why was she not questioning him in a bloody alley? Because she knew he'd be spewing shite! Rambling, pretending cooperation, mostly resisting, giving her a lovely little preview of what he'd be spewing at the Ministry under lights enchanted too bright.

This was, wow! This was her fault, her bad call here that had caused this.

She rose, took a few steps away from him, muttering a swear under her breath while keeping an eye on him and a grip on her wand.

"Figaro, stop talking!" She snapped, turning to face him.

"You are a suspect in a crime. I have to take you into custody now. That's it. You think I don't know-" she cut herself off. That he didn't do it? She knew who he was.

"So get up, come on. Up off the, um, floor." Ground. "I'll apparate us there. That's cooperating," she widened her eyes ever so slightly, a silent plea to listen.

"Figaro, stop talking!"

Figaro stopped mid-sentence, the sharpness in her tone unfamiliar. He swallowed hard on the realization he was having a melt down just like he had when Raine confronted him. Raine was an Auror, and Fauna was too. From the ground he watched her stand up and away, only now noting how she held her wand. He could tell she was upset, and that she was pushing down any soft edges.

If he didn't do what she was asking it was just going to be worse. A very dark little scarab-shaped hole in his heart wanted to make her make it worse, make her prove their friendship didn't mean anything anymore. All he'd have to do was start walking, or raise his wand, or Apparate, or shout at her and she'd have to do something about it, wouldn't she? His face probably said it all.

His shoes scratched against the ground and he stood up. He didn't know how to do this. He had been at Hogwarts when his dad had been taken into custody, and he didn't want to ask his mum the details.

Silently, he held out his wand to her handle first. Was he supposed to do that? He tried to remember what his mum had advised him.

"Sorry. Fauna, wait. What's going to happen?"

Fauna was watching Fig's face as he stood, the brim of his hat casting an odd shadow. Constant vigilance, Blake, raise your wand. Keep it up, don't lower your hand. Don't worry about offending him.

Still. Still, she kept her arm lowered. When he moved, her hand jerked up. Don't do it!

But he only offered his wand to her, handle first. She blinked at it. Her face softened, and she let out a breath.

"Um." Fauna reached out, gave his hand a pat. "You hold onto that for now."

She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump. Fauna glanced at his face. Had she imagined the shadow that had passed over it earlier? It was just Fig. Figaro Sellaphix, shivering without a coat.

"What's going to happen is, we'll apparate to the Ministry, and check in your wand and other, er, stuff on Level Two." What stuff? "You'll get a chance to get a lawyer if you want one, and notify someone of your whereabouts. Then we'll head to a room for questioning. Everything we say will be recorded."

Fauna paused a moment, letting it sink in for them both.

"I'll go over this again once we get there, and show you your rights in writing," Fauna nodded. She adjusted her grip on her wand, preparing to apparate.

"Ready?"

She crooked her arm for him to take, much like she had that night in the pub, when they'd swaggered out after an evening of drunken banter. The memory of it glinted in her eyes, a softer shade of bright blue.

She patted his hand down and he let it drop with a frustrated sigh, both annoyed and embarrassed. Who just voluntarily handed their wand to an Auror, for shissake, Fig? But she was acting all twitchy, like he was going to explode like a snap card. And he'd briefly entertained the thought of a demonstrative self-destruction, so maybe she should have just taken it. But nah. They apparently weren't to that part yet.

Fauna explained it all again, like she was a voice on a WWN program. It all still felt fake, like they were playing pretend. He thought again of running, or fighting, or whatever it would take to jolt some sense into Fauna. It might feel right, but it would ruin everything. And he just wasn't that brazen. The seconds were ticking by. He put his wand back in his pocket.

"Ready?"

"No."

If you're looking for a change of pace, you can arrest me. I'll make it exceedingly stupid. You can practice your interrogation techniques,

 He stepped forward and wound his arm around hers.

"Are you?"

---

They appeared arm-in-arm in the busy entry of Level Two. Middle of the day at the Ministry of Magic, loads of people coming and going. It suddenly felt absurdly normal. He wasn't being dragged, there weren't handcuffs; he was just ... with blue-eyed Fauna Blake.

Standing there next to her. He unlinked his arm and put his hands in his pockets.  He swore under his breath and put on hand on his hat. This was deeply bizarre.

Fig knew people here. There was no one he knew here who he wanted to see him here. He clenched his fists in his pocket. Yeah, he definitely should have run.

Fauna fidgeted with the quill in her hands, turning it over in her fingers as she waited for Figaro to review the Level Two policies, all detailed in the long scroll of parchment in front of him. They sat in the silent interrogation room, with its bare brick walls and enchanted window on one side. From the inside, the window reflected nothing, showed nothing, and buffered the hustle and bustle of the bullpen. From the outside, they were the Auror and the Suspect caught in their own little window display, going through the motions, the patterns of questioning.

She'd already confiscated his wand and hat, as he hadn't had much else on him. The bright lights above highlighted Fig's head of hat hair and the slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Rarely did she ever want someone to lawyer up or owl their family, but in this case, with his penchant for panicking under pressure, she did. Come on, Fig. Owl your mum. Or Bagnold. Or someone nice at his work who would cover his shift while he was gone.

"Have you looked over everything, Fig?" Fauna said meaningfully.

Did he understand, not-idiot Figaro? 48 hours. He could be held for up to 48 hours. Fauna hoped to get this done in less than an hour, but it depended on the amount of coherent information he gave her. She shifted in the uncomfortable chair beside him and rested her hands on the table, setting the quill she'd been fiddling with onto her notebook. Two water glasses rested on the table. The policies in front of him explained he was entitled to regular breaks. Whose stomach would growl first?

When he was finished reviewing and ignoring his rights, Fauna floated the scroll over to a filing cabinet that appeared in the wall. The parchment filed itself, and the cabinet disappeared from their view. With another flick of her wand, she turned on the recording device set inside the window of the room. It whirred to life, glowing red as a beating heart within glass, and for a few moments, the red light illuminated the everlasting quill poised over a scroll of tamper-proof parchment. As they spoke, the device would record their voices, and the parchment would display their conversation to any observers on the outside.

The window went blank again, but the gentle hum of the machine remained.

Ready?

No.

"This interview is in regards to case number 8459 dash 01. The time is 1250, November 8th. Suspect Figaro Sellaphix."

Fauna spoke clearly to the room, though it was charmed to pick up every murmur and whisper. She shuffled the case folder out from underneath her notebook, and angled her seat towards him.

"You don't need to say anything," she met his eyes. "But it might harm your defense if you're questioned on something you did not mention later in court. Anything you say may be given in evidence."

She would start by verifying his answers to the questions Raine had asked him in his flat. Since she already knew Fig, it would give her a baseline, of sorts.

"On the third of November, where were you between the hours of one and two in the morning?"