It was 5 minute to 9 o’clock when Rafe Sellaphix approached the welcome witch on Level 2 of the Ministry for Magic. The las time he’d been here was on his arrest, getting dragged through to the holding cells with as much dignity as a maggot in a big pile of dung. Now, Rafe was rather more put together and rather readier to handle whatever was about to be before him.

Today was his monitoring meeting with a law enforcement official. His new officer who would oversee his rehabilitation.
‘Yes Sir, I’m very sorry about what I did. No sir, I won’t do it again. My days of being a criminal mastermind are behind me now. I’m a poet now. I write create and recite graphic lymericks.’

He didn’t know what the name of his officer was called, probably for the best. So Rafe didn’t bother to look up from the issue of Witch Weekly that he was perusing through when a young witch in red robes came through to the waiting area. The article about getting your wizard lover in line was far too interesting to be looking up at everyone entering and exiting.

At just a minute after 9am, Fauna entered the waiting room and glanced around, the egg sandwich she'd scarfed down earlier turning uneasily in her stomach. Last night had indeed been real. She'd come in at 7:00 this morning to find Rafe Sellaphix's files on her desk and an illegible memo scrawled atop it that she suspected was Pratt's. It was real and she had to do it, the hour was here. She smoothed the static from her hair and plucked a few pieces of dog hair from the collar of her uniform. Her eyes were tired, recovering from last night's drinking and trivia adventure at Spellpunk, and she'd been awake for hours poring over various handbooks and manuals to prepare for this. She was as ready as she was going to be. Into battle!

Three people were waiting, each sitting a few seats away from each other. A young man was filling out forms. An older woman fidgeted with an unopened magazine, her fingers tensed over the edges, and she looked up at Fauna with disappointment. The last, a middle aged man, seemed engaged in a Witch Weekly magazine, his eyes tracking the words. She tilted her head. Though he looked older and thinner, he was certainly the only one who matched the photo in the Sellaphix case files.

Still, Fauna went to Sandra the desk witch first.

"Is that..?" Fauna glanced at the man and raised her eyebrows at Sandra.

"Sweetie, your powers of deduction amaze me," Sandra looked up from her memos with a slight smile.

Merlin knew that if any man at work dared to call her sweetie it would royally piss her off, but from desk witches and welcome witches, it happened so often it just didn't surprise her anymore.

"I mean, I need to know who I'm going to wish a good morning," Fauna said with exaggerated earnestness.

"You didn't wish me a good morning."

"Good morning to you too, then. Er," she leaned in a bit. "How long has that woman been waiting?"

The witch kept glancing at them, and then at the empty corridor.

"Just five minutes or so. I've sent a memo to Bailey. Tell her so for me, will you, hun?" Sandra glanced down again at her notes.

Fauna went over to the woman who was already watching her. "Ma'am? Auror Bailey will be right with you. Just another minute or two."

"He said 9am sharp."

She nodded, smiled kindly, "Yes, I'm sure he's just making sure there's coffee in the room for both of you. He hasn't found mine to steal yet, you see."

The woman continued to look anxious.

"Um, he'll just be another minute, I'm sure."

The woman nodded. Fauna squared her shoulders and went to greet Figaro's father. There on time. Thank Merlin. She'd worried that Fig would owl him a warning or Zelda Sellaphix would murder him and then he wouldn't make his appointment.

She made the mistake of glancing down at the article he was reading, and cleared her throat to stifle a nervous chuckle.

"Sir?"

Fauna offered him a hand to shake. "I'm Fauna Blake, the Auror who will be meeting with you today."

She paid attention to the Ministry memos about respecting everyone's privacy, she did, even if they made her sound ridiculously vague.

"If you'll follow me, please?" She paused, curious if he'd take his reading material with him. Some people did!

Fauna led him down the side corridors of Level Two, a roundabout walk which avoided the Head of the Department's office, the rows of cubicles, the interrogation rooms, and most definitely Pratt's office. She avoided all of those areas, mostly to avoid teasing and commentary from the Aurors. They reached a tiny corner conference room that smelled perpetually like peanuts.

Fauna frowned at the open door, the smell of fresh coffee wafting out. She walked in and blinked at a red-headed Auror pouring a full cup.

"Bailey!"

He jumped. He began to smile, his smile widening when he noticed Mr. Sellaphix.

"I closed and locked the door for a reason," she crossed her arms.

"I unlocked and opened it."

"And that!" She gestured at the mug he held. One of her favorites. The bright yellow mug was adorned with tiny little flowers blooming in a garland around a badger's face.

"This?" He held it up. "How was I to know it's yours? You left it in the break room, Blake. Could have been Radley's."

Fauna gave him a look as he strolled past her. She set her files on the table and glanced at Fig's father, then at a memo left crumpled by the coffee pot.

"Bailey," she hesitated. "There is a very nervous witch waiting for you in the waiting area, you know. Nervously waiting."

"I'd best hop to it, then," he took an audible sip and left. Fauna stood in the doorway a moment, watching him stop to chat with a pair of Aurors, to snag a pastry, to point back at the room where she was standing and to laugh. She shut the door a little too firmly. Coffee fiend.

She hoped the next memo from Sandra bopped him in the head. She hoped the witch burst into tears when he finally showed. She hoped, she hoped.

Waving her wand, Fauna filled up a few cups of coffee and floated them over to the table, in case Fig's father wanted anything. She smiled sheepishly at him, and took the seat across from him, scattering her various notebooks, documents, and a roll of parchment. As she set things out, she settled into her role, awkward as it was, and spoke respectfully.

"Thanks for coming in this morning, Mr. Sellaphix. Er, I'm Fauna Blake. I'm to be your supervisor, to help you rehabilitate and assist you with any issues you might come across. This is just an introductory meeting, really, to go over the basics. This shouldn't take long and then you can get on with your day."

Would it be that easy? She hoped!

“Sir?” Rafe cast his eyes up from Witch Weekly, bushy eyebrows raised. Goodness, when had he last been called Sir? It certainly was novel! His eyes did a quick assessment of the auror child. Had the world moved so much in this past 3 years that children were now running Level 2? Perhaps she’d be less of a git than those red robed gits that he’d experienced in the past.

“Fauna.” Rafe closed his magazine, stood and took her hand in a firm shake. “Pretty name for a shitty job.” Despite the words, Rafe smirked and shrugged. “Not the best track record with Aurors, Kid.” Like a good boy, Rafe followed the young auror with no further comment. He had to behave. He’d been released 2 years early. They could send him back any moment if he pushed it.

Rafe felt decidedly invisible as the girl exchanged unpleasanteries with another auror and finally they were sat in a room with coffee. Rafe wasn’t a huge fan of coffee. Tea was better. Coffee set his nerves on edge.

“…Er, I'm Fauna Blake…” She was nervous, repeating herself. Rafe smiled softly to himself. This wasn’t going to be the headache he’d imagined.

Go over the rules? He knew them. Shut up and keep your head down.

“‘Yes Ma’am, I’m very sorry about what I did. No Ma’am. I won’t do it again. My days of being a criminal mastermind are behind me now. I’m a poet now. I write, create and recite graphic lymericks.”

Fauna slow-blinked, worried, for a second, that Mr. Sellaphix was already on the defensive. He'd gotten her name right, gotten the shitty job part right, and smiled, and shaken her hand, and followed her to the room without incident. So why...?

Oh. He was just teasing her. He had chosen not the bastardly route but the cheeky route. She'd have to owl Fig and let him know.

The corners of her mouth quirked up as she took a sip of coffee.

"A poet, you say? Ok," Fauna flipped through the parchment in front of her. "We will have to add that to the income ledger."

She widened her eyes ever so slightly.

"When did you learn your artistic trade? Do you get paid by each uh, line or each limerick? Or how graphic it - you know what," Fauna's eyes widened for real. "Forget I tried to make jokes. I never know how to end them."

Especially with her friend's fathers, Merlin help her! Better not talk about graphic limericks! Sorry Mrs. Sellaphix and Fig, she didn't mean it!

She smiled. Let's start over!

"So, to start with the very basics, Mr. Sellaphix, we'll meet on a monthly basis officially. We can meet here at the Ministry, or if you're more comfortable, at your home or workplace. I'll be checking in at your workplace from time to time too," she paused. "Sometimes I'll give you a head's up, sometimes I'll just pop by. Just so you know what to expect."

She would be as respectful as possible. Fauna wasn't sure how to convey that until she acted on it.

"We can set up a schedule for meeting once after you've had a chance to settle in," she gestured at her appointment book. "It's best to stick to the schedule, but if you have to change or miss an appointment for any reason, please let me know as soon as you can in advance. I'll do my best to be flexible. That being said, if you ever need anything or if you have questions, you can always owl me, ok?"

She met his eyes. She hoped he wouldn't owl her questions about stanzas. She was about as good at poetry as she was at cracking jokes with friend's fathers.

"We will have to add that to the income ledger."

Despite his reservations and previous assumption that ‘all aurors are arseholes’, Rafe smiled. Fauna wasn’t an arsehole. Not yet. She was a trainee arsehole that had so far retained a sense of humour. Good for her. Clever girl. Even if she doubted her own jokes.

“I got paid in contraband.” The wizard said with a smirk before leaning in and whispering as if he were sharing a secret. “Packet soup. Very rare. Highly valued.”

Unfortunately, the girl, true to auror form, was quick to business and Rafe’s smile vanished. He was given a quick jolt to reality. Rafe Sellaphix, 49 years old, father of 2, husband to the glorious Zelda, was about to be monitored by a teenaged auror wannabe who could be no more than a year older than his own son. Just bloody brilliant.

“Got it. Show up to meetings and don’t get caught doing black market shit. If I don’t follow those 2 simple rules, you give a hard pull on my collar and lead.” Perhaps he should have meant ‘don’t do black market shit’. Getting caught was more were Rafe’s mind had gone, however.

"Uh huh," Fauna said slowly. Well, shite. Shit. Shitty shit.

"It's more like don't do the black market shit. Just don't do it. It'll make things easier for you, and me. Uh, less paperwork," she raised her eyebrows, acknowledging yet another attempt at a joke.

A faint line of concern drew between her brows, the corners of her mouth still curved up as a matter of habit. She hoped this wouldn't be a nightmare. He was defensive, yet clever, yet joking. Like an old and world-weary version of Fig.

"I have some basic questions to start," Fauna shuffled her papers and looked at him wryly. Such exciting questions! No, they were about as exciting as soup contraband.

"You're living at this address here?"

She turned a sheet of parchment and slid it across the table so he could have a look.

"You're staying with your wife, Zelda, and your younger son, Frank, when he's not in school? Is anyone else living there?"

She waited for his response, not expecting anything different from the information she had.

Another joke. This time, feathers ruffled by the seriousness of his recent situation, Rafe didn’t bite the bait. He simply nodded. Making a promise that he wouldn’t do the black market stuff? Well, how else was he and Zelda to survive? It wasn’t like the apothecary was thriving. Good people didn’t tend to venture down into Knockturn Alley.

“Nope,” Rafe replied to her question about his living arrangements. It was very personal; he didn’t like this. A small and naïve part of Rafe had felt like he’d have a quick chat, promise to behave, and go. No, she wanted to confirm details and make sure he didn’t forget that while he may have been released early, he was still a criminal. He cast a glance at the address and nodded. “Our oldest, Figaro, moved out. Pops back but he doesn’t live at home anymore.” Nope, the kid had his own scruffy little bedsit where Rafe had had a bit too much to drink 2 nights ago.

“Bet you do that,” Rafe continued, feeling determined to break the uncomfortable barrier between criminal and auror. “Take your washing home? Pop back in when you’re out of tea bags and bog roll?”

Figaro! Fauna's eyebrows shot up, trying very hard to keep a straight face. She bit her lip and shook her head in response to his question, leaning back in her seat a bit and letting her quill rest on her hand.

"Um, sometimes," she shrugged one shoulder, not minding the tangent. She wasn't aiming to make him uncomfortable.

"It's more for my mum's home-cooked meals and the chance to get some fresh air away from London. I've learned how to do laundry by now, though it doesn't always look it," she smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve and smiled.

"Um," Fauna tried to recall what she'd been about to ask.

"As for work, do you plan to run the apothecary full time again? Er, alongside your wife?"

She let out a sudden laugh, his comments catching up to her. "I'm sorry," she held up a hand. "It's just Fig and the bog roll..."

Her eyes danced with amusement as she put a hand over her mouth and chuckled. Goodbye any plans to keep work life and personal friendships separate!

Rafe would have been much happier to continue a discussion about Miss Blake’s mother’s home-cooked meals. Perhaps he could compare them to the delights he was getting and going to be getting now he was back home with Zelda. Witch could cook. Witch could cook well. Witch clearly wanted to feed him back up. Wizard wasn’t complaining.

Sadly, Rafe wasn’t destined to have a chat about food. He had a date with an auror trainee and it was all about how he was going to be a good boy from now on. No more smuggling, just good old fashioned apothecary running with his good old fashioned wife. Well, he wasn’t going to call her old fashioned. She might resent that.

Now, imagine Rafe’s confusion when the auror trainee who missed her mum’s home-cooked meals suddenly started laughing! Did the thought of him working with his wife amuse her? Nope. She told him it was about the thought of ‘Fig’ and bog roll. Fig. She knew him.

“You know him.” Rafe verbalised. He didn’t know if he liked that thought or not. “Girlfriend?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.

Girlfriend? Well, shit! How did he...?

Fauna's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry. Do I...?"

Was he asking her if she had a girlfriend? No, no, couldn't be.

"Um, oh," her eyes widened in realization.

"No!" She said with alarm, both hands doing a little 'no' wave in front of her. A few drops of ink splattered the parchment.

"I mean, of course not. Fig and I, we've been friends for, well, years? Both Hufflepuffs, you know?"

Her eyes were still wide, earnest and worried, assuming that Rafe, like Zelda, wouldn't be pleased about the friendship and would be even less pleased about any romance. A smile-grimace twitched on her face. No romance! Just friends!

Well clearly the thought of actually being his darling son’s girlfriend was categorically alarming for the young auror. Rafe tried not to look too surprised. Figaro was a handsome boy. Sure, he needed a good trim and could have done with a few smart shirts. He was also messy. Too messy. No girl liked mess, did they? But he was caring and handsome. He came from good breeding. Very good breeding. Just look at what a handsome couple Rafe and Zelda were! She was missing out. Not that he wanted his son dating an auror. But yes, she was missing out. Sellaphix men were wonderful men.

“Oops.” Rafe held his hand up. “You protest a lot. He’s a scruff bag, kid, but he isn’t a bloody ogre.” Nope. Definitely not an ogre. Zelda was too beautiful to spawn an ogre.

“Ahem, right. What else? I’m gonna be a good boy, tick. I’m living at home with my wonderful wife and son, tick. Working at the apothecary, tick. You’re not dating my eldest, tick.” He briefly summed up their conversation so far. “It that it? I just do the stuff with Level 4, don’t do bad things etc etc, then I stay out free as a bird?”

"Nooo, of course he isn't," Fauna protested, her face flushing, more embarrassed by the realization that Rafe Sellaphix thought she had a low opinion of his son than his assumption that they were dating. Of course Fig wasn't an ogre!

She smiled weakly as he got back on track, and she took a second to glance down at her notes and papers.

"Right," she nodded, glancing at him. "I'm not going to request any community service or class type of thing right now. You already have work and family and a support system, and anything else would just get in your way."

Her smile turned more genuine. She couldn't imagine him arguing with her there.

"As for the help you're offering Level Four, as long as it remains anonymous, that's fine. Let me know if anyone from the Ministry asks more of you, because they shouldn't be doing that."

At least not without running it by Level Two.

"Otherwise," she paused, considering the best way to say this. "If any of your old contacts reach out to you and make you feel pressured or threatened, please tell me and I'll do everything I can to keep you and your family safe," she added seriously, a flicker of shy uncertainty in her eyes as she weighed her words against her young appearance. He had no reason to trust her, but she hoped that with time that would change.