“No, Pickler, that isn’t what I meant!” The red head persisted, pursuing Penelope from the office in an attempt to apologise. Penny frowned, looking down at her palms. “I’m happy with your course, without me in it.” Continued the Welsh witch who gripped a pole to keep her upright.

“P-p-p-p---I was trying to helP.” Penny pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Bruce was smiling, there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. That amusement had been there when she said a sentence full of words beginning with ‘p’. As if Penelope Pickler wouldn’t notice. It was positively pernicious. Penny did not feel playful right now. “I just think you can handle it yourself. With all of your positively powerful Penelope Pickler power.”

That was too much. Penelope burst into tears. Loud, ugly, unpleasant tears.

Bruce Ballentine of the Werewolf Wing put her palms up in perplexity.
“What did I say?!”

“You took the p-p-p---mickey!”

Penny Pickler was sobbing in the office. Not, altogether, an unusual occurrence, Ambrose understood, but not a regular one either. Ambrose had sat puzzled and perplexed through many of her sessions during his probation, with the advice to keep his head down and strictly not ask questions.

But Ambrose Pepper was a friendly soul, and somewhat dimwitted at times. The influence of the older beast handlers the past six months had rather rubbed off on the seventeen year old apprentice.

“You mean she took the piss.” Ambrose offered, showing a surprising grasp of Penny’s love of alliterating the letter p.

“Baaaaaah!” Kayla Greensleeves couldn’t keep it in. She’d been eavesdropping, as was her favourite habit on Level 4, after reading memos for other people. Her role as secretary to Being Division Head was perfect for such endeavours. But she was rather off her turf right now, on one of the cusps between the Divisions and the Werewolf Wing. Penny Pickler had gone to talk to Bruce and more than a few heads had turned, and that was before the wailing began.

Kayla clapped a hand over her gob with a slap, and then dropped it, announcing loudly to Penny:
“I’m sorry, it’s just, Pepper made a joke.” She rather liked Ambrose Pepper. He was another young face on the floor and his reputation from Hogwarts made Kayla feel that she wasn’t the only incompetent person employed.

Cepheus could hear Kayla all the way from the Division’s kitchen area, and gave a louder-than-meant sigh. His squib secretary had avoided being sacked by Alec Carter on more than one occasion, but it seemed she was hell bent on heading for another one. There were only so many times Ceph could cover for and make excuses that she saved them money and time.

He’d go over there and remind Kayla it was an office, only that meant coming over to see what Penny was crying about. Another problem altogether. He paused, within sight and hearing distance of the commotion, cat mug in hand, full to the brim of hot tea.

Perhaps if he made his way across the office and pretended to check someone’s desk he wouldn’t be drawn into it. He never went with his first thought. Second thoughts were always better. Best to close it down before it got too melodramatic.

He approached, and cleared his throat.
“Is there a problem?”

Problem. Kayla let out another incoherent noise in amusement.

Tristan had been in the Ministry for a while now, waiting out the daylight by delving into level four's archives with the librarians. One of his tasks as vampire consultant was to organise and contextualise old reports about vampiric activity, on account of how biased they were prior to the act that outlawed vampire hunting. It was boring work for most - interesting to him.

His black suit and ruffled shirt were covered in a light coat of parchment dust, some of it caught up in his dark hair. He had come looking for Cepheus Gamp: apparently some archives required the authority of a division head to access. Typical, he thought. Vampires couldn't even read about their own history without a say-so from wizardkind.

He should have known to turn back the moment his sensitive ears picked up what could only be the wailing of a petulant child.

            "You took the p-p-p---mickey!"
         "You mean she took the piss."

Oh, wonderful, two petulant children. The voices of Kayla Greensleeves and her employer, however, were more familiar. Tristan entered upon the scene just as Gamp was trying to take charge. He tugged at the handkerchief in his front pocket, approaching Penny to hand it to her.

So many fluids from different orifices, but never the ichor he wanted.

Even before her 3 and a half years away from Level 4, Bruce had experienced the inconvenience of working with Penelope Pickler. Not an unkind or tactless person, even she struggled to sidestep the diversity officer’s sensitivities in order to avoid a scene like this before her.

“You mean she took the piss.” A young wizard involved himself.
“Baaaaaah!” The sound, much like a distressed sheep came from behind the younger wizard and Pickler. Bruce would have laughed had Pickler not been sobbing as if she’d just lost a relative to these magical measles going around. Penelope Pickler was quite a name. A girl obsessed with using the letter P as often as she could. Now, according to the excited sheep, this wizard was called Pepper. Penny Pickler picked a peck of Pickled pepper… No, Bruce. Inappropriate.

Next to be added to the group surrounded the Werewolf Wing head and the diversity officer was Gamp, head of Beings.

“Positively!” Penelope Pickler blubbered. Bruce would have crossed her arms and rolled her eyes had she not been holding her cane in her right hand.

“She’s particularly sensitive.” Bruce muttered. P-Particularly.

“Sensitive!” Penny protested, watery eyes wide as she looked across at the witch with crazy red hair. “You told me that my course for your team was practically pointless and impractical!”

She took the handkerchief from Mr Vaillancourt, kind and polite vampire working with Mr Gamp. The handkerchief went her to nose and she took a big blow.
“They’re not p-p-perfect, Bruce! And you r-requite it after your…” she paused, not wanting to further incite the werewolf’s irritation. “sabattical.”

“Sabbatical!?” It hadn’t worked. Bruce looked even more irked which only made Penny’s tears fall harder.

“I’m s-s-s- I apologise!”

Ambrose couldn’t help but gawk at the witches arguing. He also couldn’t help but guffaw at Kayla’s responses.

At the sight of Mr Gamp, who was a boss like Mr Spectre was, he did his best attempt to look like he was legitimately working. He’d not yet been properly introduced to the woman who considered herself a legend, Bruce Ballantyne, head of the Werewolf Wing. He didn’t often stray this close to the vague boundaries between the division desks.

As much as the witches arguing provided as much entertainment as a spat between students at school had, Ambrose’s attention had instead been temporarily captivated by Tristan Vaillancourt. He was suddenly remembering the incident in the tailors before Christmas. I wonder if he turns into a bat? Ambrose thought to himself, quill tapping his rosy chin. I wonder if he knows that vampire lady…

He didn’t realise he was staring.

“Positively!” Penny blurted, though accepted Tristan’s offer of a handkerchief. That vampire knew chivalry.

“She’s particularly sensitive.” Bruce looked peeved. Peeved. It was subconsciously catching.

“Sensitive!” Penny retaliated, “You told me that my course for your team was practically pointless and impractical!”

If Ballentyne had, Cepheus was suitably impressed at the use of the letter P. His gaze slid from Penny to his fellow Division Head (of sorts). For not the first time in his year of leading the Being Division, he was rather glad that he did not directly manage, thus was not responsible for Penny. She did grace his office on multiple occasions as if he did though.

A lift of his eyebrows asked Bruce silently ’you did?’

“… require it after your sabbatical.”
“Sabbatical?!”

Now the witches were doing it with words beginning with S it seemed. Cepheus winced, and didn’t hide it very well given he closed his eyes just to do so.

“I think,” the Being Division Head began, maintaining an even tone as he could, and exercising all the patience he possessed (which was a great deal), “we ought to take a breath, take this conversation back to Bruce’s office and talk about things calmly.”

He looked from Penny to Bruce and exhaled. They still had their little audience. Pepper was looking rather oddly at Tristan. Kayla looked like this was as good as a Witch Weekly scoop. The hot cat mug in his hand gave him an idea.

“Kayla, will you go and make them both a drink. Yes, now please.” His squib secretary dithered, her hands suddenly trying to attempt to signal their preferences. Tea, coffee, milk, sugar?

            "Sabbatical!?"
          "I’m s-s-s- I apologise!"

He flinched, holding a hand to his ear. Pickler was practically designed to hurt ears like his. Cepheus tried to get things back on track but Tristan hoped he would be able to get a word in about the archives - and his thoughts stayed on this path, until he noticed that the young wizard with the quill was staring at him. Not subtly, either.

Even as the Division Head was issuing orders, Tristan turned to look at Ambrose directly. "Something caught your interest, human?" he narrowed his dark eyes, unsmiling, a hiss at the back of his throat.

Bruce had never been very good at schooling her expressions. She’d tried and failed over the years to perfect a poker face. Unfortunately, her face still shared with those around her exactly what she was thinking. So today, flustered at the sudden outburst from Penny Pickler, Bruce was very unable to hide her frustrations. The fingers of her right hand were almost white, tightly gripping the wolf head handle of her cane to stop her from hexing the crying witch.

The Pepper kid was staring, really staring at yet another figure who’d appeared for the show. Blue eyes scanned over to see pale skin, fairly dark hair, and dark eyes. Vampire. Was this the one Bagnold had asked to take on as a consultant? She didn’t get the opportunity to ask, because Pickler was wailing like a harpy, and Gamp was suggesting they take this to her office. There really was nothing to talk about. Bruce wasn’t going to indulge Pickler, and Pickler needed a thicker skin. She could write that down, if it helped, then Pickler could read it in private.

“There really is nothing to talk about.” Bruce’s gaze flashed to Gamp. He seemed rather eager to include himself in this. She’d heard the rumours of Pickler’s love for him (because who hadn’t?), maybe this was why he chose to become involved?

Going to parley over the problem! Perfect! Cepheus Gamp really was perfect, wasn’t he? Penny hadn’t even noticed Pepper staring at Mr Vaillancourt like he was a circus attraction. Poor Mr Vaillancourt, Penny had even spoken to the staff about behaving correctly around vampires. But right now, Penny was preoccupied with a particular werewolf who clearly had no politeness. She knew she shouldn’t judge, but Madam Ballentyne was former WCU, after all…

To further provoke Penny, Ballentyne refused to take this conversation elsewhere. Fortunately, however, father than further spill her emotions out in front of everyone, Penny pulled herself together.

She panted a puny amount, puffed out her peritoneum, and pronounced:
“Madam Ballentyne, I profess that you have provoked me to perceive a precise level of perturb at your punitive and pan pronouncement. I propose that we pull back and reposition ourselves in your office. please.” Every p was practically spat out!

Ballentyne’s eyes scanned between the various people stood around, her lips pressed tightly together. She gave a wave to Kayla, ordering a tea with no sugar, and turned on her heel, walking slowly and purposefully back towards her office.

Penny’s red puffy eyes shot up to Cepheus, a pleasing thanks on her lips. Wasn’t he perfect?

“Something caught your interest, human?”

Oh Merlin, it had noticed. Ambrose turned pink and automatically clutched at the parchment in hand.

“N-no.” He retorted with even less thought than his usual conversational intelligence level. “I mean,” oh fudge, why did this have to be right when Penny was here? He didn’t want to sit through several more hours of her workshops if he accidentally insulted this vampire. He’d heard about what happened to some aurors who had - Kayla had told him. ’They were lucky not to be bitten, I reckon.’ she’d said.

“I - realised we’d not been introduced.” A look inside Ambrose’s brain right now would have seen all hands scrambling to their stations, sirens going like a submarine under attack. His years at Hogwarts under scrutiny from Professor Storm had all been a drill for ‘adult’ life.

“I’m Ambrose P-Pepper,” he winced at his own name given the nervous stammer. “I think me and my brother ran into one of your … k-kind,” if that was that the right word… “before Christmas. I mistook her for a bat trapped in a shop in the Alley.”

Ballentyne was keen to brush things off, which Ceph didn’t blame her for. Most people did. However, the better technique as to give just enough to allow Penny to tick off one of her criteria on her annual training rotation. The harder one fought against it, the more detailed and expansive the final training became. If Carter or someone up on Level 1 was reviewing your pay and Penny had reported you absent from one of the mandatory courses, you could wave the next grade up goodbye.

Here was an early dose of such a response, Ceph thought as Penny drew herself to full height, nostrils flaring with her inhalation. Every letter p a prod with a finger between the ribs.

The Head of the Werewolf Wing relented. Though she said nothing, the body language was clear enough that Penny shot him a particularly pleased look.

To add to the awkwardness, Tristan and Ambrose seemed to have taken particular interest in each other. Oh hell. He’d just attempted to put one fire out and another was attempting to start.

“Penny,” Cepheus quietly addressed his younger colleague, drawing closer to confer quietly between them, hoping the young wizard and vampire would sort themselves out. “Maybe sell it to Ballentyne that you can condense one of your three-hour stints to two, hmm?” He adopted the soft, thoughtful tone he used with the upset house elves, stood elbow to elbow, “Or even better, something rather more bitesize?” He gave her a hopeful smile and gestured towards the office door, the sight of a cluttered office beyond the frame.

Penny momentarily re-inflated, Cepheus turned back to Tristan.
“Leave Pepper in one piece won’t you?” He asked jovially, “he’s an apprentice, lots to learn…”

            "I think me and my brother ran into one...mistook her for a bat trapped in a shop in the Alley."
       Leave Pepper in one piece...an apprentice, lots to learn."

The vampire glanced at Cepheus, for just a second, tipping his chin into the slightest of nods. It was a lucky thing for Ambrose that the Division Head had good rapport with Tristan. He turned back to the young wizard, largely ignoring Pickler's wailing and Ballentyne's grousing. "We don't all know each other," he informed him crisply, "but in this one case, oui, I believe you were acquainted with my friend."

Cass had, in fact, told him about an encounter with the Peppers as well as a brazen Hogwarts student. The highlight, naturally, was her successful transformation.

 It never ceased to amaze him how the youth were enticed to play with their species. Reckless, yes, considering Tristan himself had become a vampire by doing the very same thing.

"I am Tristan Vaillancourt," he bowed just a little.. "It is very nice to meet you Ambrose Pepper." Tristan glanced back at Cepheus and gestured patronisingly at the women. "When you are done with... whatever this is, Cepheus, I require your assistance."

Proceeding their progression to Bruce Ballentyne’s particularly sloppy office, Cepheus propped in close enough that Penny could smell his perfect pheromones and perfume. Cepheus’s scent of cedarwood, clementines and cigarettes. Perfectly piquant!

Three hours precipitated to two!? What an out of the box, peculiar suggestion! She wasn’t so sure that she could even do that. But, if Cepheus had faith, she had it too.

Thus, the young witch nodded in concurrence, and continued with him down the corridor to the disorganised and clearly unfastidious office.

Behind the desk, the office’s inhabitant was limping, but she didn’t sit. Instead, the red headed Iona Ballentyne stood, hands on her desk, looking like some fiery dragon from a terrifying Welsh cave.

“Proceed?” was all it took from the Welsh werewolf with the walking whatchamacallit when Penelope Pickler proceeded to warble.

As the tears of frustration fell furiously, Bruce raised her hands and shook her head.

“Preposterous!”