Bruce felt exhausted, and she hadn’t even arrived at her office for her first day yet. Upon getting up that morning, she had been greeted with an overly perky teenaged daughter who brandished a hot iron and a makeup bag as if they were elite weapons. For a woman who believed in the ‘come as you are’ mode of dress, they were weapons. For the most part, she’d humoured the girl. The last time that a lot of these people had seen her properly was before or during the attack that had left her disabled and with lycanthropy. They hadn’t seen the witch who couldn’t walk farther than a hundred feet without a cane, they all knew the witch who’d never backed down from going head to head with a full adult werewolf.

So, her crazy red hair had been smoothed to within an inch of its life, and some of the wrinkles that came with hitting the wrong side of 40 were covered with something light and cold feeling. She had, however drawn the line at being painted like a clown, and had escaped before the blusher and mascara came out. She wore a pair of dark green cigarette trousers, some flat shoes, and a shirt. Her neat new black robes hung comfortably and the golden handle of her cane had kindly been polished. It was like her first day at school all over again.

Bruce now, also felt as nervous as she had on her first day at Hogwarts. She wasn’t full of the excitement and confidence knowing this job would be easy. Already, as people found out, they were negative about her new office. People didn’t want a werewolf in charge of the Werewolf Wing. In truth, 3 years ago, Bruce would have been the same. she probably would have campaigned to have the inappropriate wolf removed on the grounds of being unable to fulfil the responsibilities of the role.

She knew, therefore, that it would be necessary to go in with a game plan and face down the naysayers, of which there were sure to be a lot.
Upon entering the ministry through the floo, Bruce tried to keep up with the throngs moving through the atrium. A lift arrived several metres away and a tall figure entered.
“Hold it! Hold the-” Cane in hand, she broke into a semi run and slammed a hand into the closing doors. “I said hold it.” Came a retort through gritted teeth. She didn’t look up at with whom she was sharing a lift until she was resting back against the wall and they started hurtling on their journey.

When she was marginally recovered and her gaze lifted, Bruce instantly recognised the wizard and ginger eyebrows shot up.
“Not been eaten yet, then? I think I owe you. It was 5 galleons for a leg, wasn’t it?”

He should have taken a sick day off.

Balfour ran a hand through his hair, recently burnished fair by a quick visit to sunnier climes for work purposes. He returned from the trip just in time to join Johann at Kings Cross on Friday - when Feliks had finally come down from Hogwarts for winter holidays after an eventful first term. And, gods, he really ought to have stayed home to spend time with his son instead of coming into work. They could have gone exploring in town or walking on the estate! Maybe that's what Balthair was doing with the young wizard now. It felt strange to think of seanair as a great grandfather.

These were the bent of Bal's distracted thoughts as he boarded the lifts, one foot in Edinburgh and the other racing ahead to think of Beast Division obligations. He was so absorbed in them that he almost closed the doors on someone hobbling to come aboard.

"Sorry!" he murmured automatically, blinking at the shock of red curls and thinking first of Ira Almasy's tempestuous little niece; but of course this was a much older witch, brandishing a cane and a sense of weariness that could only be gifted by age. It came as shock when he realised who he was looking at.

Bloody hell. When was the last time anyone here had seen Ballentyne in-person? Besides her wife, anyway. The woman had dropped out of polite society after the attack that had effectively ended her career, though he vaguely remembered her name amongst the congratulations cards sent to the manor after their engagement had been printed in the papers.

            "Not been eaten yet, then? I think I owe you. It was 5 galleons for a leg, wasn’t it?"

The Scotsman's surprise quickly devolved into a good humoured laugh, and he laid a friendly arm on her shoulder. "I'll take my payment in drink, Bruce. Gods, I almost didn't clock you." Balfour smiled, adjusting to the changes in her appearance and bearing. "Afraid my dragon handling odds have dropped drastically since we last spoke. Don't get to see my darlings as often."

It was still a dangerous job, he couldn't lie about that, but he wasn't in the field as much as he used to be. And ever since Johann, well, Bal didn't mind having a better chance at seeing old age. He thought twice before diving in the way of danger nowadays.

The elevator brought them up to level four with a cheerful Ding!

"What brings you here? Are you back in the wing?" he asked as he held the doors open for her to alight. "I'm a touch behind on floor talk, been busy with the holidays coming up."

Well, at least that was one warm welcome. Bruce allowed herself to relax somewhat against the caged wall of the lift, one hand clutching the handlebar as they rocketed through the tunnels. She’d liked Balfour. He’d always been quite similar to her mantra of work hard play hard. She’d had many a drunken night sharing in stories with him before rolling on home to her wife, while he rolled on to someone else’s home with a witch on his arm. The news, therefore, that he’d started to date, and subsequently propose to a man, came as quite the surprise.

“I see, you’ve been introduced to the desk we all hated?” Or she’d hated, at least. Most people, when they had kids, chose the security and lack of danger of a desk job. Neither Zora nor Iona had done that. Her worse nightmare had always been to be shackled to a desk. Now, she supposed, her leg was that shackle.

"What brings you here? Are you back in the wing?" They stepped out of the lift together and Bruce smiled.

“I am.” And, as far was she was aware, no one but Carter knew to expect her. It would be an interesting morning. Bruce knew now that she’d be cracking open the harder liquor when she returned home that evening. “Though I’m not sure what reception I’m going to get. I don’t think anyone’s going to be chuffed with a redhead in charge of the Werewolf Wing,” she smirked before having a soft chuckle to herself. In truth, she was a little nervous. Her appointment was likely to go down like a lead balloon.

            "I see, you’ve been introduced to the desk we all hated?"

He shrugged as they lingered in the fourth floor foyer, in no rush to greet the Division and begin his day. "Aye. Desk, office, astute secretary." Balfour had nothing but good things to say about Mrs Lanningham - and consequently, his promotion of two years now. They had thrust the job upon him whilst the dragon epidemic was building and he'd had little time to contemplate being cuffed to the desk. Things just kept happening one after another.

There was also, he realised suddenly, the fact that he could still go about his old beast handling work as part and parcel of Division Head duties. Bruce couldn't exactly go werewolf catching on a full moon anymore, could she? Bal felt a wave of sympathy towards the witch, though he kept a tap on it.

"A redhead!" he smiled, ruffling his own hair; usually auburn red but now a strawberry blonde, after days in the sun. Bruce meant something else of course. "I don't know if I have any advice for that," Balfour adjusted his collar unconsciously, thinking back to his own reception in Beasts, "except to just take it in stride, like it's the most natural thing."

He knew those were weak words as they came from someone who hadn't received much opposition at all. Just a period of adjustment and learning how to wield a different kind of influence over his colleagues. "You're going to have a bigger say in policy, at least. Best thing about the dreaded desk, eh?"

Silver linings in all this pixie shit.

Standing in the foyer just outside of the Werewolf Wing felt a disturbing mix of familiar and alien. She’d spent 22 years of her life coming out of that lift every work day and going through the double doors to the division. For 8 years, she’d inhabited, and massively outgrown the small office attached to the Werewolf Capture Unit. She remembered fondly how messy that office had been on a daily basis because she’d definitely not enjoyed the paperwork that had come with the job. She knew who had that office now, and knew that that would be the most awkward reintroduction of them all.

“There’s nothing natural about it, though, is there?” she muttered quietly, a sad smile on her lips. Had she not been holding her cane, she would have crossed her arms. She may have been ready for the fight, but she was also damned nervous. No one enjoyed being challenged so fiercely, and Bruce worried that she’d lost a lot of her previous confidence.

At the mention of policy, Bruce bit the inside of her mouth as she smirked knowingly. She shifted her weight onto her left leg and the cane and let out a breathy laugh. Balfour, she remembered, had always had this nature that set people at ease. There were few people around that were just nice. Balfour Spectre was one, and she was immensely glad that it was him she’d shared a lift with this morning.
“I might have to ease people into that. People aren’t the most receptive to a redhead.” With a smile, Bruce gave a shrug. “That’s my fight now, Spectre.”

“Anyway, when the @&#* did you become gay? I’m not going to lie, I feel lied to.” Now, her grin was broad. Much easier to talk about him than her new job. "And I'm sure a lot of witches feel worse than I about the situation."

As far as fights went, having to face down the werewolf wing over its stagnant policies was one of the worthier ones at the Ministry of Magic. He was sure that Iona was up to the task - and he didn't have to tell her that, all he had to do was make clear he was behind her at every one of the meetings between Alec and the Division Heads. Unless she doubled down and got even harsher with policy.

Balfour was about to make his excuses, afraid he was intruding on her preparations, when she fixed him with a sudden grin. “Anyway, when the @&#* did you become gay?"

When did he--? He burst out laughing, face a furious enough shade of red it could almost match the witch's hair. It was a very boisterous, Scottish laugh. But he couldn't help it - the question conjured memories of when he'd been better known as a witch's man, a complete and utter flirt. Shameless. Well, the shameless part was still still true. It also made him think of his morning; of tousled dark curls and sleepy kisses and crumpled bedsheets and black tea going cold on the kitchen counter.

"Ah, since my grandfather caught me kissing a boy in fourth year?" Balfour licked his lips, trying not to snort at what Balthair must now think of the whole it's-a-phase approach to that summer fling. "It.... happened suddenly, with Johann. He's the most wonderful fellow. I'm sorry to say that I have earned the entire floor's disgust by talking about him incessantly."

His latest habit was using the words 'my fiancé' whenever and wherever he could. Let me just send a memo to my fiancé or Would you like to join my fiancé and me for dinner? or Thanks, it was a present from my fiancé. Mrs L may want to strangle him.

"Thanks for the card, by the way," Bal quickly added, not wanting to forget that she had sent one in spite of her physical absence. "You must come to the wedding, in the spring."

"Ah, since my grandfather caught me kissing a boy in fourth year?" Balfour told her after an animated laugh. Bruce let out an ‘oooh’ as she imagined that situation. It was bad enough, she supposed, having family walk in on a straight child with a straight boy or girl. She knew the extra awkwardness that the recipient of the kiss being the same gender added. Fortunately for Bruce, her parents had been about as liberal as they came. Zora’s hadn’t. She remembered the sometimes-heated arguments about coming out as a couple only to be shot down in the early days.

Hearing the wizard that she’d watched go home with many a witch talking so fondly of someone, caused the witch to smile softly. It was quite scary, Bruce considered, how quickly people and things changed. 3 years ago, this wizard had been a ladies man showing no signs at all at wanting to settle down. Now, he was engaged and, according to Waverly (and her own secret reading of the Witch Weekly magazines left in the flat), he had a son as well.

“I’d like that.” She nodded and glanced down at her watch. It had been a long time since she’d gone to anything that wasn’t a bar or a shop.

“Listen, I need to get started. But, I anticipate a completely shitty morning and I’ll need to take the shackles off later. So, meet me for lunch? I’d like to hear about Johann.” She already knew she would need to get out of the office for at least half an hour later and it wasn’t as if Zora was going to leave Level 2 to babysit her wife.

She understood - there weren't any questions to follow up on his grandfather's revelation. Bruce knew how these things went and how they weren't the kind of memories you discussed in passing. Balthair had been dismissive of the relationship but they had come a long way since those days; it still made Balfour smile when he caught the older wizard chatting to Johann, casually. In the end it wasn't a crumbling of traditional conventions but a widening of their world view - only good things could come from embracing love.

In a way he hoped that he and Joh would have the kind of enduring relationship Bruce shared with her wife. 

            "So, meet me for lunch? I’d like to hear about Johann."

"Lunch," he agreed with a smile bordering on sentimental, "I'll be sure to work up an appetite, chasing dragons. Good luck in there." Balfour clapped her shoulder in parting, glancing past the witch towards the Werewolf Wing. They were certainly in for a shock today.

He'd have to prod Mrs L for the gossip later, if Ballentyne herself didn't spill.

"We'll eat in Diagon, avoid nauseating the Ministry at large." Balfour grinned, stepping back with a hand in his pocket before he turned towards Beasts. It was a busy day ahead - they needed to reintroduce some Merfolk to a loch - but he looked forward to catching up with Bruce.

And he could never refuse a chance to gush about his fiancé.