It was finally time to go home. Long hours had been the norm since she’d started in role in December. So much to catch up on and educate herself with, and now so much to sort out and fix. Iona had been working late, and at the weekend, and thanks to the apparent danger she was in, and her apparent inability to protect herself, Iona was stood near the welcome witch’s desk on Level 2, waiting for Zora to appear from the Auror Headquarters. They would go home together, Zora acting as her ‘protection’, although both witches knew it was unnecessary.

“Evenin’, boss.” She smiled teasingly when her wife came around the corner in her crimson robes. No kiss in greeting, save that for away from prying eyes. Iona was all too aware of how she’d pulled Zora out of her comfort zone in the past month and a half, she wasn’t going to make it any worse on purpose. “Didn’t go home alone, see?” she raised her spare hand in defence, smirking. “Too feeble and feminine to cope without the sexy bodyguard.”

Despite it being a Sunday, the main entrance to Level 2 was busy at this time of evening. Workers clocking off and heading for the lifts, the night shift arriving and rushing through, coffees in hand to help them manage the long hours. Everyone looked stressed and exhausted. Level Two by no means looked like a fun place to work.

Turning away from the desk she’d been leaning against, the witches started to head towards the lifts. Iona leaned in to Zora, muttering once more, “Keep just the robe on all night. I’ll feel really safe then, Ma’am.”

Alright, yes, Zora was starting to warm up to having her wife back in the Ministry. 'Too feeble and feminine,' was enough to pull a laugh out of Zora. It felt bizarre to be assigned to protect her own wife, but the alternative - some random dork -- was far worse. They spent all their spare time together anyway. Iona was feeling frisky, but Zora was still coming down from work; it usually took dinner and a soft couch for her to shake it.

The lift doors opened in front of them and a small knot of people came out. As they waited for the lift to empty, Zora's gaze swung around. That witch looked exactly like - "Waverly?"

The tall girl with long legs, curly hair, and the nastiest scowl turned and her eyes grew wide in a kind of horror.

The look was enough for Zora to know this wasn't an ordinary visit. After a moment, Zora saw that her daughter was being firmly lead by the shoulder by Padma Clairvoy from the Magical Law Patrol in plainclothes. Zora notified Iona with a bump on the elbow - as if she hadn't already figured it out - and headed towards Padma and Waverly, just as Padma noticed them. Padma slowed and smiled ruefully.

    "This one yours?"

Waverly looked every bit the sullen teenager waiting for the gallows. She fell against the wall and crossed her arms.

"What is this?" Zora said, trying very much to not assume the worst. To not assume their troublesome daughter was in trouble.

Iona was a little too distracted by what she had in mind for Zora when they got home after another long day. She wasn’t paying any attention to those exiting the life, and, therefore, she didn’t notice the familiar face, even when Zora said her name.
“Waverly?” Zora was seriously mentioning their daughter when Iona had just alluded to what she wanted to spend some of their evening doing? Talk about mood destroyer!
Her gaze shot from her wife to follow her line of sight and wham, there she was, their sullen looking princess with a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Oh no.
Nope.
No.
No way.
Just nope.

Iona looked like she’d been slapped in the face, mouth agape and eyes wide.

"This one yours?" The serious looking witch asked Zora, and Iona gripped her cane tightly. Nope. Not theirs. They’d never been brought into Level 2 in some kind of trouble! They were good girls. Clearly, their daughter was not.

To Zora’s side, Iona approached, but stayed silent. This was her wife’s territory, her wife’s colleague. Besides, she was trying to get her head around what the hell Waverly was doing on Level 2.
Iona may have remained silent, but she fixed her daughter with a very pointed ‘Law Enforcement are the least of your concerns’ look. Iona was often pretty soft, but Zora certainly wasn’t.

Padma looked up and down Auror Roh and her high-ranked wife; she hadn't known they had a kid. But then, most people didn't know that Roh was married until a couple months ago. They each wore the range of expressions that all parents did in this particular situation, only they outranked Padma by a mile.

   "Picked her up slinging gillyweed in Diagon," ma'am, Padma explained. "I wouldn't have bothered - off duty, having a laugh with my mates - but she tried selling to me."

"That's bollocks," Waverly snipped. The MLP peon was being selective about her facts, but somehow Waverly didn't figure it was going to be relevant. Zora was looking at her like she was an alien.

"Omma, it's nothing. I was being neighborly."

   "She's over seventeen, but erm, maybe you three want to wait somewhere - "

Zora touched her finger to her thumb and replied, "Give us fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes before you start the paperwork, fifteen minutes before you ruin my daughter's record. Padma Clairvoy hesitated but after a moment passed over a paper bag. Inside was everything Waverly had on her. It wasn't as if an idiot teenager dealing kelp was the bust of the century, and it certainly wasn't the first time the boss's kid got into trouble. And if the boss said to cool it, you cooled it.

Waverly, sulking against the wall wasn't relieved. She'd honestly rather be booked than to be alone with two lionesses about to eat their cub. Worse than Zora's wrath, though, was the look on Iona's face. But none of this completed the list of people Waverly had to be worried about. This was a frying pan/fire/hard place trifecta.

At Zora'd direction, Waverly led the way through to the smaller conference room. It was unoccupied and smelled of stale coffee. It was furnished with filing cabinets and a half-dozen mismatched chairs. There were faded public service announcements on the wall, an office courtesy rules list from 1743 (looked like), among other things.

Waverly walked in but didn't sit down. Instead she tried to explain.

"This is a joke. I was sharing a joint with a friend at Death and Co and that witch with the stick up her arse was lurking around. I was being neighborly. You saw her face when she found out who you are. She screwed up, didn't she? Hauling in the daughter of you lot on a nothing charge."

"Picked her up slinging gillyweed in Diagon…"
Nope.
“but she tried selling to me."
Hell no.
"That's bollocks,"
Probably not.

Iona’s fingers were practically white, fingernails digging into the wolf head handle of her cane. If she didn’t squeeze the cane with them, they might find their way around her wild daughter’s slim neck.

‘Neighbourly’, Waverly claimed to be. Iona closed her eyes, counting one to ten as the Magical Law Patrol witch handed the bag to Zora and agreed to them having some time alone with their spawn.

The redhead was the last to step into the room that stunk of coffee and depression. She pushed the door shut with the edge of the wooden cane, and came to stand near the table. She used her cane to push out a chair towards Waverly, and shot a look in her direction.
“Sit.”

The pair had a moment’s eye contact where Iona was temporarily unsure if she’d obey. They were a stubborn family, all three of them. When Waverly did relent, Iona let out a breath that was intended to calm. It didn’t.

“Cut the crap, Waverly. Show us at least an ounce of respect and dish the truth.” Was she really going to lie to their faces?

Waverly took off her coat and tossed it on the table, and sat down as directed. They were going to be here for awhile. She sighed and settled into a stalwart, steady sort of defiance. She began queuing up one-line counters to the lecture and consequences that were inevitably coming. She was crossed three dominant emotions: embarrassment at getting caught, indignation that her mothers were going to make this a thing, and dread of consequences from the law but also from her supplier.

Respect, oh come on. This wasn't about respect. She respected the hell out of them, and they had to know that. What was disrespectful was them oscillating between controlling every part of her life while kicking her out of the house. But at the end of the day if anyone was going to get Wav out of this, it was her parents. She just had to get them on her side.

Waverly lifted her hands in surrender.

"Consider the crap cut," she said. "She was just doing her job. I shouldn't have mouthed off. I should not have called her jackboot fascist hag. I'm sure she's a lovely person. I'll apologize."

Zora shook her head. Waverly had always managed to talk herself out of bad trouble at school, charm the right people, make the right concessions. Zora saw it every day from actual criminals facing worse charges. It all ended up coming down to facts. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Waverly could have hit the right nerve on a proud MLE officer and got herself dragged in as a lesson. It was also possible that it had gone down exactly as Padma Clairvoy said.

Without a word, Zora dumped the evidence bag out on the table. Waverly reached for it without thinking then drew her hand back. It was everything one would expect a witch of Waverly's age to have on her. Wand, pocketbook, a lipstick, pens, sunglasses, loose change. But incongruous with the lot of it was a green-suede purse with a silver clasp. Zora picked it up and opened in.

Inside was more gillyweed than any one person could use in a week. She looked at Waverly incredulous. She'd expected a few joints not an operation.

"You're dealing?" Zora shouted.

Waverly sat forward. "No! I just like gillyweed! Don't look so shocked, I know you stole my stash last month."

"Don't you know what kind of trouble this is?" Zora demanded. "This is real trouble!"

The bag that Iona had had hanging over her shoulder was dropped on the table. It held everything expected of a witch in her 40s, pain potion for if her leg got really bad, and no gillyweed or lipstick. Very different to what her 19-year-old daughter walked around with. In Zora’s hand was the purse full of gillyweed, and Zora did enough shouting for the both of them. Her words came out before Iona was even able to catch on, and when she did, her stomach knotted as she stared across at Waverly.

Iona had stolen her stash last month; she and Zora had smoked and drunk in the middle of the woods like teenagers again. But there’d only been enough for one spliff there, nothing to raise eyebrows because both women had been there in their youth. This now laid out in front of them made Iona feel sick. What the hell had their daughter gotten herself into? Had there been signs that they’d missed?

"This is real trouble!" Zora fell into this role so easily, the angry parent ready to deal the necessary ramifications. Iona had never been good at it, but she’d tried. This evening, she could only stare, disbelieving. Their baby girl had been brought into the Ministry of Magic for dealing gillyweed. It started with something small like gillyweed, didn’t it? Then they had you. She’d read the papers. She’d listening to Zora.

“Is-is this how you are affording that flat?” Iona was at a loss, her expression said as much. She wasn’t shouting and getting angry like Zora, she was in too much shock. “On your record, this will follow you, Waverly.”

Her Omma was being an Auror and her Mam looked heart-broken, but they were united in their disapproval. Waverly would be challenged to 'handle' them both at once, but one thing was certain: she absolutely had to paper this over and it couldn't get back to Tam Handrow. She'd really messed this up, but not for the reason her parents thought.

      “Is-is this how you are affording that flat?” Iona asked.

'Yes,' Waverly thought.

"No," Waverly lied. Half-lied. "It's basically a closet and we both have jobs."

The bit about a record made her heart rate spike, though. Before she could say more, though, Zora was not finished.

---

"Where did you get it, then? Who's selling you this? A word from me, and I can have a stack of known dealers for you to choose from," Auror Roh demanded standing back with her arms crossed over her chest.

"If you're having trouble with the facts, I can have Reid pull rap sheets on young wix picked up for this exact thing.  Not a few of them contain a big red stamp 'Azkaban'."

It was all empty threats, but no one had a poker face like Zora Roh. As long as Waverly wasn't selling more than this or selling to muggles, this would be a mark on her record and a fine. She glanced at Iona who looked just crushed wondering if she'd back her up. All Zora wanted was for Waverly to stop. Whatever she was involved in, Zora just needed her to see reason and cut that shit out, or else she was going to drive her life into a soggy ditch and there wouldn't be anything her parents could do to help her.

They both did have jobs. Waverley had taken some entry level position at witch Weekly (a job Iona and Zora were both relieved and unimpressed about at the same time), and her friend was a waitress. She knew the cost of living in London, and now she was seeing how her daughter might be affording it. The thought dealt a crushing blow.

Zora was handling this efficiently enough for the both of them, and Iona was suddenly feeling like a pointless witness to an over familiar investigation that might take place on Level 2. Had they made it home, Zora would have wound down from uptight Auror mode to quirky and loving wife mode. Now, she was strung out in Auror mode, dealing their daughter with a taste of Auror Roh on work hours. Not that Waverly didn’t deserve it. Iona considered piping up that they might leave her there to wallow in consequences of her actions.

“…Not a few of them contain a big red stamp 'Azkaban'.”

Iona was stood leaning on her cane with her other hand in her trouser pocket when her gaze snapped sidewards to Zora. Quickly, she glanced back to Waverley. Had it had the desired effect? Was their rebellious daughter sat there in fear or was she still going to deal them lies about leisure use and innocence?

“Are you that determined to throw your life away? This isn’t a slap on the wrist, don’t do it again. That there is everything that Law Enforcement officer needs to book you. Twmffat![1]” 

1.	Welsh swearing for idiot

Waverly leaned forward as Zora went after her like she was some perp and Iona piled on. Waverly knew she was in trouble when her Mam went Welsh on her.

"Honestly! You're overreacting," she said, voice raising. "No one sold me anything! I don't have a dealer." Air quotes.

"It's just gillyweed. It's not cocaine. Everybody smokes, you smoke. I wasn't dealing. Nothing is going to happen ..."

She leaned forward further and moderated her voice to a sharp whisper, "... unless you make a big deal out of it!"

Waverly looked between them, palms out and up, as if this was obvious. They'd intercepted her before the patrol officer could file any paperwork. Zora was a Senior Auror and that had to count for something around here.

Zora sniffed and paced away, hands on hips. She couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe that Waverly would go so far, and that they were now in this position. Thank Merlin they'd caught up before the arrest became official. She didn't doubt that Clairvoy would drop it if Zora said drop it, but what would they be teaching Waverly? What example would they be setting.

Zora settled on her heels and looked at Iona as if to silently ask her what the hell they should do. Zora was realizing they had little choice - she'd never be party to Waverly going to Azkaban. She'd sooner lose her job.

Iona was feeling sick to her stomach. Their darling daughter who’d just been caught probably dealing Gillyweed was suddenly putting them on them. They smoked so it was okay? Nothing would happen if they didn’t make a big deal of it?

Iona found herself staring. Staring with a look used so rarely, blue eyes unrelenting on the girl that they’d brought up to apparently become a criminal. This young girl had been a delight until her later teenage years. The lack of job and aspiration had been bad enough. But this? It was yet another living nightmare. How had this even happened?

Beside her, Zora had gone silent, stepping away, clearly trying to weigh up the various options. They must have both been thinking the same thing, surely? If Zo said so, this would be dropped. The thought settled even more uneasy in her stomach, that her wife was being put in such a position by their irresponsible daughter.

“Unless we make a big dea-” Iona stopped mid word, mouth hanging open. Her facial muscles stiffened and eyes fixed on Waverly’s wrist. The young witch was leaning forward, hands out, palms up. Two little dark red puncture scars on dark skin.

It wasn’t often anymore that Iona moved quickly, but in this moment, her hand shot out and snatched the wrist, yanking it up to see.
“What the hell is that?” Her thin fingered grip was tight, Iona knew exactly what it was. Bright eyes flashed up to meet Wav’s gaze. “You stupid girl!” Her voice was quiet, a hiss heavily accented in Welsh.

For a few moments, Waverly thought she had it. She could see it in Zora that it had all been empty threats; there was no way her parents were going to turn her in. They'd be angry for years, but they'd never do it. It'd get smoothed over, she'd be more careful, they'd all move on before summer.

But just when Waverly thought they were winding down, her Mam gave her the most unexpected look. Mid-sentence, exasperation turned to something else. Fear? Waverly found out soon enough. The bite. The stupid bite from last night! She'd took off her coat without thinking. Her throat mouth went dry and her eyes went wide. She hadn't prepared for this.

"Mam...!" Waverly moaned. Zora swept over to see and she went cold.

"That's a vampire bite," Zora said, putting words to the obvious. They were fresh, not even scabbed over. It looked as if Iona squeezed any harder blood would start seeping out.

Waverly tried to pull away feeling suddenly very exposed. If she was worried what would happen if her dealers found out about getting picked up, she was horrified of Terry Hooker.

"How did that happen? Who was it?" Zora demanded.

Waverly tried to cover her embarrassment with defiance, but her cheeks were flush remembering an experience she'd never wanted her mothers to find out about. She just shook her head, her mouth shut tight.

Zora furrowed her brow and peered at her daughter. She barely recognized her. In the space of a half-hour everything she thought she knew about Waverly shattered.

"Someone was killed on Christmas Eve," Zora said firmly. "A vampire murdered an innocent man in the park, Merlin's sake! You could have been killed! Tell us how this happened."

Waverly just shut her mouth tighter. If she said a word, it would be over.

Zora turned her head dangerously. "I will find out."

If the scars weren’t enough evidence, Waverly’s face said enough. Wide eyes, shock and embarrassment. Embarrassment because she’d enjoyed it. Waverly had chosen to be bitten. Was this all linked? The gillyweed and some sick relation with a vampire? Was she being forced into all this? Vampires played mind tricks, didn’t they?

Zora, clearly as concerned as Iona, threw questions at their daughter who now masked whatever emotions she had behind a wall of defiance. Iona let go of her wrist, and stood up straight again, nails digging into the wolf head of her cane’s handle.

“You stupid girl.” Iona repeated, her voice held a dangerous tone, emotion building too quickly for her to contain. She felt like she might throw up, a nausea building in the pit of her stomach. First the drugs, now this. And Waverly? She had nothing to say for herself all of a sudden. “What the hell is wrong with you? You have a vampire lover? Because they sure as hell don’t love you? You’ve just offered yourself up as a %@&#ing blood bag!”

Usually, Iona’s first reaction to any real family argument, was to head for the door. She hated it and much preferred avoid it. But this was too serious; it was too terrifying.
“Sguthan! We should let them lock her up, Zo. Then she’ll keep all of her %@&#ing blood! Cachu! Fy duw. Fel pe bai hi'n un ni.[1]”

1.	Welsh for ‘my god, as if she’s ours’

Waverly couldn't hide the look of disgust at the implication Hooker was her lover. She took her hand back and held it to her chest, looking apalled as the situation got worse and worse. Her stomach tied into a knot. He was not her lover, she wanted to shout. The thought repulsed her. It wasn't like that. Frankly, she was suprised Iona knew anything about it, about people volunteering and the implications, and god, this was messed up.

But she wasn't breaking a deal with a vampire. She stayed quiet even though she was shaking with feelings she couldn't identify. She'd never seen her mother this mad.

Zora was about to blow her top when she all of a sudden had to all but hold Iona back from filicide.

"Come on," Zora said to Iona as gently as she could, forcing herself to keep her voice quiet.

"Come on," she said again and quartered out towards the door. When Iona seemed to consider consenting, Zora turned on Waverly.

"Don't. Move."

Waverly made no move to defy them. She knew they'd never let her be locked up. She knew it.

"Come on,"

Zora tried. Iona was raging, furious and frustrated with the entire situation. She wasn’t ready to ‘come on’. Waverly needed to know exactly how much she’d messed up. She needed scaring. She needed to know what happened to people that messed up like this.

"Come on,"

Zora stood between them, as if trying to herd Iona to the door. A hard look was cast at her wife, angry at being expected to back down right now. What the hell did Zora even plan? Flash her senior auror badge and make it all go away? Then what happened to Waverly? She learned nothing.

Unwillingly, Iona relented, turning on her heel and pulling the door back open. Her cane hit the floor with more vigour than usual as she stepped back out into the corridor. She spun quickly to fix Zora with a look. They’d rarely agreed on disciplining Waverly. This time was probably going to be no different.
“You’re going to have them let her go, aren’t you?” Her eyes were watering; the very reason Iona backed away from arguments. Anger made her upset. Frustration brought out tears. “She let a vampire sink his fangs into her, Zo.” People were around, so while still furious, Iona’s voice was more of a hissed whisper.