Iona, otherwise known as Bruce, struggled to juggle her wand and her walking cane as she kicked open the front door with her bad left leg. She let out a groan of pain, feeling instant regret as a bolt of agony shot up her calf and thigh. Behind her, floated a paper bag which contained chinese takeaway and a bottle of champagne. A few boxes labelled with Madame Malkin’s also floated, piled precariously in the air looking as if they might tumble and fall down the stairs behind her.

She had good news. She finally had good news. They needed to celebrate.

Today was the first time in a long time that Iona wore something other than cargo trousers and a jumper. It was the first time that she’d been out of the flat and even put shoes on in a couple of days. This evening, she was dressed in her only pair of smart black trousers, her only white shirt, and a set of dark green robes. Her hair had been neatly pinned back, but now a few curls were shooting out in odd directions. She even wore earrings. To anyone that knew her, she looked odd. She also looked pleased with herself. After a lot of walking about and trying to do as much as she could without her cane, she was in more pain than usual. But she was still pleased with herself.

Having taken over the large kitchen island, Zora stood with a large glass of wine beside her. Spread across the kitchen island were her auror robes and she was directing a needle and thread with her wand.

The chinese was directed to be placed on the work surface along with the bottle, and the boxes landed softly on the sofa. Well, the bottom box landed softly. The others tumbled to the floor, but the witch wasn’t at all bothered. Instead, she rested her cane against the wall and made her way over to her wife, grinning. From behind, arms slipped around Zora’s waist and she kissed her neck before muttering. “What are you adding? Tassels? Glitter? A secret pocket for emergency poison?”

Bruce knew how this conversation could go down. While she hoped that Zora would agree that it was a great opportunity, she knew that there would be resistance, and she’d prepared herself for that. It was definitely best to warm her up to the idea before blurting it out.

Even as Zora was engrossed in her uniform repair, she had Iona on her mind. It was rare, now, for her wife to be excited about something. Everything good was always dulled by the memory of how things used to be or the apprehension of how nothing was easy anymore. It was hard to be optimistic, but Zora was trying. She and Iona were so used to disappointment now, but they couldn't give up.

She sat up straighter and glanced up when Iona arrived home with shopping, but she wasn't quite ready to look up from the mending.

"Hey, babe," she said, leaning into the affection, but keeping her hands moving. She snickered at the suggestions which were more appropriate for a burlesque. "Death first."

No, it was just a patch. Spell burns weren't always easy to just magically mend, so sometimes a little manual dexterity was required. Only after a moment did Zora turn and see what Iona was wearing. Zora set her wand down and gave her a once over.

"What's this?" she asked with unwanted suspicion.

“This,” Iona was smiling, even her wife’s suspicion wasn’t going to throw her off today, “is how you are going to see me from now on.” Breaking away from Zora, she worked her way around the kitchen island to where the food and champagne had been levitated, a noticeable limp in her gait. From the bag, she procured the bottle and span to face Zora, her grin wider. “We’re celebrating.”

And they really should be. This job was a better opportunity that she anticipated she would have had 3 years prior had she remained in the WCU. Members of that branch tended to plateau. No one wanted to work with the werewolf catchers thanks to the terrible reputation they’d always had. Regardless, before, she probably never wanted to move up to desk work, it was her nightmare. Now, with no choice if she wanted to work at all, Bruce would be thrown in at a much higher level than before, even if it was a desk job. She would make it work, this was her opportunity.

With a flick of her wand, two glass flutes floated down from the cupboard, and she started to work on the cork.
“Wav’s gone to some party, so it’s just us. I got Chinese.” Iona, aware that her delaying of the actual information was clear, chose to just go with it. Her bright blue eyes danced up from the cork to meet Zora’s dark gaze, “and a job.”

Zora didn't react the way she thought Iona would have wanted. She wasn't the most effusively emotive person to begin with. She wanted to be. She wanted to reflect back Iona's enthusiasm, but ... the champagne and the take-away and the news.

"Oh."

Zora tried to smile but it came off more like a wince. "I didn't know you'd been looking. Your book...?"

This had always been the goal. For Iona to find a normal life again, to get back on her feet, to really be herself again. But Zora had thought she'd have been a part of it. It was rough out there for werewolves, even those with perfect records like Iona, with good reputations and connections - Zora thought she'd have been a part of that.

She shook her head. "I mean, what is it?"

Not what she expected. Her smile dropped by the lack of any enthusiasm at all. Zora looked more irked than pleased. She looked more like she’d just bitten into a lemon.

“My book may as well be used to wipe your arse with, Zo.” She pointed out to her wife with a roll of her eyes. She’d been trying to put together a guide on werewolf tracking. All the theory was there, she’d had 22 years of experience. The actual application of putting words onto parchment in some semblance of order and to make it interesting to read had fallen flat on its face. Iona had decided months ago that she was never going to be an author. She didn’t know enough big fancy words and her brain definitely didn’t work in a logical order. That was Zora’s forte.

Now, was the time to really stall. After her wife’s initial reaction, Iona wasn’t so sure she wanted to give the rest of her news.
“I haven’t been looking, anyway.” She shook her head and put the still corked bottle back on the work surface. Clearly it was too early for the actual celebrations. Instead, she leaned forward, elbows resting on the island were the crimson robes had been spread out. “I had an owl this morning. Nothing’s official yet, I said I’d need to think about it. But this is an opportunity that won’t come again, love.”

It was not easy to leave work at work, so when Iona started slow-walking her news Zora couldn't help but see a witness with something to hide. She pushed away the thought and tried to recognize that her loving wife was excited about something, and that was big and important for her. For them both.

With a sigh, Zora gathered up all of her long black curly hair and wrapped it up on top of her head. Change modes. Be open-minded. Just listen. Not everything had to be a thing. Some things can be good. She scratched her bare shoulder and leaned against the other side of the island.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Zora said, trying to be sweet. "Tell me again and I'll be excited. What's the job? Is it that consulting thing with the Wizengamot?"

There had been some talk of Iona doing some part-time work for the Wizengamot. As needed, just provide procedural advice to the Elders and the staff attorneys. It hadn't gone anywhere and Zora never found out why - she'd assumed Iona would just stifle without something real to do.

Clearly Zora had gotten the hint. But Bruce didn’t smile again just yet. She was mentally prepared for the questions. Zora, for all she tried to leave work at the door, was an auror and she thought like an auror. She questioned and wanted to protect. Iona had never needed protecting before. She’d worked for the WCU before even meeting the woman that was to become her wife. She’d managed just fine until the ambush.

“No.” A quick shake of her head. She’d not been all that interested in the whole idea of getting involved with the Wizengamot. She’d not been a whole lot interested in doing anything other than her old job. Nothing would have been as exciting and interesting. Iona would readily admit that she’d always been an adrenaline junkie. Going out every full moon to catch a werewolf or two had satisfied that quite well. Popping in occasionally to give a bit of advice to some wrinkly old guys about werewolf procedure would have made her feel like she was 30 years older.

“I had a sit down with Alec Carter today” she didn’t need to explain who that was. Zora was the one who still got to work at the Ministry every day. “He wants me to Head up the Werewolf Wing.” Iona decided to continue talking through whatever immediate reaction her wife had to this news. “I’m guessing you know what’s been going on with the direwolves because Level 2 are involved now. Apparently, Bagnold’s taken the brunt of it, but that’s not feasibly possible to continue.” It was the first time that Bagnold’s name had been mentioned since Zora’s news about him and Queen G. “Carter wants a fresh set of eyes, and someone that can manage the difficult characters.” Her eyes danced over Zora’s face, trying to get a gage on what she was thinking. She wanted Zora’s support, they didn’t just do things without the support of the other. They wouldn’t have lasted 20 years if they did. “Seemingly, that’s me.”

Zora was silent probably a little to long save a long deep breath. A thousand thoughts passed through her head at once.

The Werewolf Wing. Reported directly to Head of Four. Comprised of werewolf registration, werewolf caption, all the werewolf welfare services, housed the werewolf legislature, the mentorship program.  It regulated Wolfsbane Potion production and distribution, and it had it's own safehouse. It was notorious for being the center of controversy and that hadn't changed at all, and Zora wondered if it had been headed by someone who was a werewolf themselves. Zora's first concern was all that public scrutiny being turned on her partner, and her close second the possibility of her being harmed in the field. Even though she'd be indisposed during the full moon proper, the Direwolves had a longer danger window.

"You're perfect for it, Io," Zora said finally. "I mean ... you're ready."

She didn't seem convinced, which was ironic. Zora had always been the one with the tough-love, encouraging Iona to get her tail out of bed, to try and look forward to something, try and find some way to keep busy and find herself again. But now that it was here, now that it was actually happening, Zora found herself hesitant. She just hadn't expected Iona's first real job to be something as massive as this.

One hundred and one questions never came. The suggestion that she was bonkers for wanting to go back to the Werewolf Wing wasn’t voiced. Neither was the enthusiasm that she’d been promised exhibited. Zo silently pondered the news before giving an apathetic agreement. Iona had never expected Zora to jump up and down in glee, celebrating her wife’s return to work. Celebrating the biggest promotion of her career. But she’d hoped for more. This was a big deal and Zora, quite rightfully, had reservations. This wasn’t a satisfying reaction, and Iona bit the inside of her cheek, blue eyes sweeping over Zora’s face.

Zora’s beautiful face, always so full of expression, so full of energy. Now, there was too much behind her eyes. Too much that she wasn’t saying.

“But?”

The redhead shifted uncomfortably as she leant forward against the counter. She’d been stood so long today; too long trying to pretend that she wasn’t struggling physically. Normally, at this point, Iona may have cracked an inappropriate joke and left it at that. But this wasn’t a discussion about what colour kitchen cabinets they wanted (Zora had favoured black with silver handles, Iona fancied a traditional wood – they went with the black - the handles were no longer silver!) or whether they should charge Waverly rent to stay there now she was finished at Hogwarts (still a point of contention). During those discussions, Iona had made her point and walked off. She hated disagreement and rarely did anything to encourage it. But this was different. Zora needed to voice what was on her mind so it didn’t bite Iona in the ass later.

Shit. Zora was flunking this test. I mean, Iona wasn't literally testing her - she wasn't that kind of person - but there was a good way to respond to this and Zora wasn't accomplishing it.

"There is no 'but'," Zora sighed trying not to get exasperated. She shouldn't try to bullshit Iona but what good would it to do actually be honest. Sometimes honest just made things worst and she'd already fouled this up. But Iona had also done all this behind her back and just sprung this honor.

"No, really, you're right. This is good. We should celebrate." She started gathering up her repair job to clear off the island. The Chinese smelled too good, and there was champagne and Iona had really tried.

"Was good of Carter to think of you. It's good. When do you start?"

Iona could only stare as she watched her partner starting to tidy up the robes and sewing kit. It felt like a sudden role reversal. Instead of Iona backing out of a disagreement, it was Zo. Because this was a disagreement. Zora had something to say, but she was biting her tongue. Not normal Zora behaviour. She spoke her damned mind, and Iona loved her for it. This? This wasn’t right.

“Monday.” Iona offered, standing up straight. “If Marrowbone signs the fit to work form.”

But right now, the start date didn’t matter. The unspoken thoughts floating in her wife’s head mattered. She’d given her the opportunity to voice these considerations, but Zora had chosen to protect Iona’s feelings. As if she couldn’t handle it.

“Carter’s hoping I’ll be able to go out with the WCU before and after the full moon for the direwolf patrols. Starting January.” Bruce lied, watching Zora carefully. “Just imagine making a catch first month back. Could be a regular thing then. Then it’s not all that experience down the drain, is it?” She turned and grabbed the champagne bottle once more, manipulating the cork to release it from the stem. “You and I would have to have a few practice duels. Get me ready. Or, you know, you could stop bullshitting me and tell me what you really think.” The cork popped and she poured it into the two flutes. This didn’t feel much like a celebration anymore.

“Be honest with me, Zo.” She offered the other witch a champagne flute. “You never not have an opinion.”

Monday! Okay. Zora dragged out one of the tall stools and had a seat. She absently scratched a little scar on her bare shoulder. Things were moving fast. And they didn't slow down. Iona started into how she was going to be in the field again right off the start, that she'd need to get back into dueling - her wife's shock-strategy had the desired affect. By the time she got around to calling Zora on her zipped-lip, Zora was ready to properly flip out and her face showed it.

"Fine. I'm honestly well pissed off you didn't talk to me about this first. We're supposed to be team. This affects me. This affects Waverley. What, did you think I was going to try and stop you? This is bloody amazing."

Zora put her elbows on the island and rubbed her face. "You're amazing. But you should have told me. I'm not making any sense. Just. They're going to come for you. They're going to take any excuse."

There it was. The face. Yer dead nao face. Zora was angry. Better than being silent and bringing it up later. Her tactic worked, and even if Iona knew that she’d never again be stepping foot into the field, her words had had the desired effect in getting Zora to stop in her act of not having any issues.

But the anger wasn’t for a reason Iona had expected. She frowned, eyes darting down to the drink in her hand. It wasn’t about the job in question. It was that she’d not mentioned it before. She’d not consulted her before she’d met with Carter. Iona pressed her lips together, feeling her own irritation start to swell.

“You wanted me to owl you at work?” Iona dumped the glass on the counter in front of Zora and crossed her arms defensively. “Zo, this happened today, and it could have turned out to be nothing.” But her wife was jumping between anger at not having been consulted to concern.

“They?” she had a fair idea who ‘they’ was. Iona sighed, and failed to hold back a good old fashioned exasperated eye roll. “I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” But clearly that wasn’t good enough. “I’m not going into this all rosy eyed, you know. I know no one wants a red head in charge of the wing.” Red head. Iona’s usual replacement for the word werewolf. It sounded so much less threatening.

Zora shrugged flippantly.

"You might've told me before you accepted, at least."

Even if the meeting had just come up on short notice, Iona could have still included her. It felt good to be getting this off her chest, but the tension between them was the least of her worries.

"You know how people are. A werewolf as the head of the werewolf wing, people are going to flip out. They're going to cry bias and try and say you're not capable because of full moons."

Even as she said it, Zora realized how it must sound, as if she thought Iona couldn't deal with it. "I'm sorry. I know you can take of yourself. I guess you caught me off guard. I didn't expect this. Maybe I'm not ready to have to the world coming at you."

This time, Iona didn’t try to hold back the eye roll. She even threw her head back to stare at the ceiling as she did it. Did Zora not listen? Perhaps she’d been so focused on pretending to be fine with it to actually hear the words spilling from Iona’s mouth.

“I’ve already told you,” she interrupted, clearly trying to keep her own irritation at bay. “I told him I’d need to think about it. To speak to you,” and there was no job, anyway, if she wasn’t cleared for it. Iona was hardly in a state of peak fitness anymore.

Thankfully, they moved onto Zora’s second point of contention. Number 1 being having been left out of the loop. Number two appeared to be concern for what people would have to say about her.

Iona’s expression softened as she stared across the counter at Zora. This was the reaction she’d expected, the protective side. Not the anger at not having been consulted.
“You’re never going to be ready for that, Zo. I’m not ready for that.” Not after what they’d been through. For years, it had felt like it wouldn’t get any better. Iona gingerly moved around the counter to stand before the other witch, her limp clear. “But,” She put her hands resting on Zora’s thighs, leaning forward. “I’m coming home to the meanest baddest auror that there is. And she’s going to say ‘fuck ‘em’.”